^ 




I '"^RARY OF CONGRESS. 

^4„j itijBjri# "fn. 



Shelf ..t2x\-:t4- V 5 
^ ISS6 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



^ —^>B 



VINDICATION. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



GEORGE D. BAIRD, 



yEW YORK, U. S. A. 

1886. 



* 



R. B. BAIRD, 

39 PARK PLACE, N£\ir YORK, 

PUBLISHER. 



V IN.DICATION 



AND OTHEE POEMS 



GEORGE D. BXIRD. 



^'^Sl, i4 i< 



NEW YORK, U. S. A. 



1886. 



t 






To My Beloved 

MOTHER, 

Whose Piety akd Fortitude, 

Instruction and Example, 

HAVE been 

THE SOURCE, TO A LARGE DEGREE, 
OF THE 

sentiments of this book — 
This Volume 

IS 

Affectionately Dedicated. 



Entered according to the act of Congress, in the 

the year 1886, by Robert B. Daird, in the 

Office of the Librarian of Congress, at 

Washington, 

All righte reserved. 



CONTENTS. 



VINDICATION : 

CANTO I — Five Sections, - - - Page 1. 

"I xvill make you kill yourself. " 
-CANTO II.— Six Sections, - ^. - - 29. 

"/ 7/ face the nvorld and all its xvoe," 
CANTO III.— Five Sections, - - - - 49. 

'^' I'm zveary of existence." 
CANTO IV.— Five Sections, - - - - 69. 

"■And I am Catherine of N^ormandy," 
CANTO v.— Five Sections, - - - - 91. 

"Our miseries are ended^ yours begin." 

MISCELLANEOUS: 

SABBATH MUSIC. 115. 

THE DESCENT OF JEHOVAH. - - 119. 

RECREATION. 121. 

TIME. 123. 

FLOWERS. - - - - - - . = 126. 



AN APOSTROPHE TO JEHOVAH, 



0ONS£0BATION ODB. 

Oh thou inspiring sovereign of my soul f 
Eternal, pure, omnipotent and just, 
I would this pen were as the thunderbolt? 
The ink whereby my zealous words are fixed 
Upon the faithful page were as the fierce 
And scorching flood that flows from Etna's mouth. 
If such could be, I would transfix upon 
The crystal scroll on high my tribute to 
Thy name, that fettered there the words of flame, 
Through day and night, eclipse, Aurora's light. 
Might strike the bad with terror, and the good 
With praise : and there abide, till earth, embraced 
By ice, and lost in hopeless death, begets 
No more. 



VINDICATION 



A ROMANCE 

OF THE AGE OF LOUIS XIV. 

OF FRANCE 



A POEM OF FIVE CANTOS, 
m BLANK VERSE. 



CAINTTO I. 

THE QUARREL. 
**/ -will make you kill yourself. " 

FIRST SECTION. 

*' Good morning Lord Sebastian ! did you rest 
In peace when you had left the banquet hall 
Succeeding the festivities ? " 

"I did 
My lord, nor with a single dream disturbed." 
5 But I proceed too fast ; perhaps a slight 
Elucidation would be apropos. 
The speaker quoted first, a handsome man, 
Was Lord Augustus, baron in the pay 
Of Duke of Anjou, Though descended from 

10 A noble line of peers, the scion of 

A wealthy house, he finally was forced 

To meet the stern adversities of life. 

The sphere of fortune had revolved and thrown 

Him in the dark : the court of Anjou was 

15 His home when first we meet him, as we see 
Above. My lord Sebastian, same in rank 
As Lord Augustus, was the Treasurer 
Of Normandy estate : — his fortune was 
Of similar degree, as was his face. 

20 " Well, that is cheerful news," Augustus said. 
" Sit down and tell me what has happened that 
Would be of interest, in Normandy. " 

" There's naught of interest to you my lord," 
Sebastian answered ; but a look of deep 

25 Disgust appeared upon the baron's face, 

As he declared in language bold and blunt, 
" Interrogated people have no news : 



8 [Canto I. 

But by a train of questions I -will draw 
Such fruitful information from your tongue, 

80 That volumes would not hold the bulk of news. 
First, how is Isabel ? " The color ebbed 
And flowed in handsome waves across the face 
Of Lord Sebastian. Then Augustus laughed : 
" The subject is too personal I see : 

35 Another ; how is Lady Catherine ? " 

" Exceeding well, " Sebastian briefly said. 
" And how does she esteem her father's choice ? " 
The baron asked. To which Sebastian, who 
Recovered his composure, gave reply : 

40 " Her father has not told her of Lis choice. " 

" Not told her ! " said Augustus, '' was she not 
Aware of what the Duke of Anjou had 
Been seeking for when visiting his grace 
Her father ? " 

" No, " the Treasurer returned, 

45 " She has not had the slightest hint that would 
Reveal the object of his grace's call. " 

" I must confess it fills me with surprise : 
The lady then knows not her father's plan ? " 
This question was by Lord Augustus put, 

50 And quickly answered by the Treasurer : 
" As little as the daring gamester knows 
His risky fate. " 

The barons both relapsed 
In thought, and while the silence reigns 
We must employ our time. The room in which 

55 We meet the noblemen was large and rich. 
The costly paintings, gorgeous tapestries, 
Magnificent appointments, furniture 
And carpetings, had qualified the room 
For courtly uses by his grace the duke. 

60 The reigning majesty of France was often pleased 
To visit Anjou, and declared himself 
As pleased with this apartment, which, he said, 
Was equal to the finest in the state. 
The scene of action was the country-seat 

65 Of Anjou's princely duke ; a noble manse, 
The envy of the peerage, built without 
Regard to cost or time or labor. We 
Will not reflect upon the peasantry 



lilNE 69.] d 

Who bore the burden of this splendid pile, 
10 For that would cast a deeper gloom upon 
The tale. 

Our tether tightens ; we have strayed 
Enough. Augustus moves and speaks again. 
" They have not seen each other I believe ? " 
Sebastian, startled from his reverie, 
75 Replies with wakened inl'iest in his voice : 
'* Oh no ; the fact is singular at best : 
But should his noble form find handsome face 
Confront her tender eyes in manly grace 
Imagined wrong and prejudiced reserve 
80 "Would pass away no longer could preserve : 
All feelinsrs of dislike her peace alloyed 
Would quickly melt and passion fill the void* " 

Augustus rose, and with a courtly bow 
Replied, " For this most graceful tribute to 
85 The heir of Anjou, many thanks ! Arise 
Their graces come. " 

The heavy curtains drawn 
Aside by pages dressed in livery 
Of rainbow splendor furnish us a view 
Of France's high nobility. The Duke 
90 Of y\iijou with Lis Duchess, and the Duke 
Of Normandy upon the lady's left, 
Advance ; while in their train are barons knights 
And peeresses a numerous company. 

Of all the dignitaries present one demands 
95 A more than passing notice. Stand behind 
This curtain Avhere we can observe without 
Restraint. He sits with graceful ease, apart 
In conversation with a lady. Watch 
His features and remember them. His form, 
100 More handsome than his face is strong and well 
Proportioned, and should judge his age to be 
About a double score. But we must let 
The story tell the rest. This man is known 
By title of Lord Arnaud, same in rank 
105 As other lords, retainer to the Duke 
Of Anjou. 

But the ducal party have 
Withdrawn a space, conversing by themselvei. 
An anxious look is on her grace's fac«. 



10 [Canto I. 

Which quickly fades entirely away 
110 As Normandy replies to Anjou thus : 

" Yes, as you say, your son's a handsome youth; 

I must confess my admiration for 

His manly bearini^ and his intellect. 
To which the Duke of Anjou then replied : 
115 "No time and labor have I spared to make 

Him worthy of such praise. His limbs are girt 

With strength of welded steel : his judgement keen 

Attests paternal care ; his fiiculties, 

Developed to their boundary's extent, 
120 Express themselves in action look and word." 
To which the Duchess supplemented thus : 

" And I your grace have aimed as well to make 

His disposition gentle and refined, 

And by maternal influence subject 
125 Emotions of impulsive youth to fine 

Heroic sensibilities. " 

The Duke 

Addressed was silent for awhile, then spoke, 
" Your grace I will accede to your request : 

My daughter is my all ; in whom resides 
130 The graces virtues and accomplisliments. 

Delightful to a father's heart ; and if 

I were not thoroughly convinced your sou 

Would be a faithful husband, I would not 

Consent unto the match. I could not make 
135 A better choice than Anjou's only son. " 

" And I believe your grace's daughter will 

Become a loving faithful wife unto our son. 

And I as well have doted on my child, 

E'er since his youthful form and intellect 
140 My fondness charmed ; and dearly do I wish 

He might remain forever single, that 

Our growing years he could keep company 

With undivided heart. Still it is best ; 

For youthful hearts would aged grow if they 
145 Were kept too constantly with old and gray. " 
" My sentiments exactly you have voiced, " 

Said Normandy, and as he spoke a page 

Proclaimed the entrance of the heir. All rose 

Except the ducal party, to receive 
150 The son of Anjou, who advanced to greet 

His parents and their guest. Before he speaks 



Link 163.] 11. 

A short description \rould be timely here. 

His youthful fiame and limbs are shapely ; tall 

155 Enough to satisfy a mild desire ; 

A handsome countenance of faultless mould ; 
An eye that beamed with kindness and revealed 
A character that one might love and not 
Be apprehensive; graceful carriage ; step 

160 As tirm as martial education could 

Attain ; as straight as shaft of javelin : — 
But more of him we learn at other times 
Conceruing personal appearance and 
His character ; and as for age, we judge 

165 It borders five and twenty at the most. 
His dress was suitable for drawing-room. 
It being easy light and rich. He wore 
It with a dignity and grace that caused 
The gentle hearts to beat when he was near 

170 With greater speed than usual, for it must 
Be known that Bei'trand was a fav'rite at 
The court of Anjou, full as much because 
Of personal appearance as of rank. 

But Anjou speaks as Bertrand bows before 

175 The trio, thus : " My son ? " To which the heir 
Returns, " Your grace ? " " Your future sire in law." 
With this Lord Bertraud bows to Normandy, 
Though motionless remains his countenance. 
But Normandy extends his hand and says : 

180 ''My son approach : I trust the filial 
Affection you bestow upon the ones 
Who bore and reared you will not wane, but that 
Your heart may propagate another love, 
That Catherine my daughter may possess. 

185 I hope the heart will not be satisfied. 

But claim another for its warm embrace, 
That I may have the pleasure of your love," 

" I thank your grace," was Bertrand's answer, but 
So frigid was his manner that the Duke 

190 Of Anjou said, " Tis strange he is so cold 
And undemonstrative, " remarking to 
His wife, who signified concurrence. Then 
His grace of Normandy continued, though 
He marked the icy manner of the heir : 

195 "I long to see you as my son, and ehall 



12. [Canto I. 

Be overjoyed to see the union of 
Our houses and our arms. " Then turning to 
The Duke and Duchess he resumed his speech : 
*' Your graces I will leave with much regret 

200 Your castle home upon the morrow ; but 
I carry in my thoughts a multitude 
Of pleasing reccolleetions of your kind 
Attentions to my servants and myself. 
I hope occasion will be kind enough 

205 To furnish me an opportunity 

To compensate your graces for the pains 
By entertaining you at Normandy. " 

" A pleasure which we doubtless w^ould enjoy, ' 
Replied the host, who rising said, " Your grace 
Will please excuse us for a period. 

210 Our duties call and we must answer them." 
And Normandy responded instantly, 
" Assuredly ; do not detain yourself 
On my account. " 

"With ceremony due 
The ducal pair retired : their noble guest 

215 Soliloquized before a window thus : 

" So Catherine my child the match is made ; 
And yet I must confess it is not all 
Your happiness that I include in this 
Betrothal of your hand. The broad estate, 

220 The stalwart arms, the influence and wealth 
Of Anjou have assisted in the choice. 
I have surpassingly succeeded by 
My skill in making matters wealthy for 
Myself. But notwithstanding, who could wish 

225 A better husband than the heir : his fine 
Physique and handsome face, his intellect. 
His pleasant manners — all unite, and with 
As many tongues proclaim his excellence. 
Tomorrow I return to Normandy 

280 To tell my child the joy in store for her. " 

With these remarks concluded he withdrew. 

SECTION SECOND. 

The ladies had withdrawn, and so had all 
But Lord Augustus, Arnaud, and the heir. 



Line 234.] 13. 

The first aud last arose and walked to where 

235 The eon of Anj )u sat. A look of deep 
D^satisfaotioa was upon his face. 
His back was to the barons, and his thoughts 
Were running free and easy as we see. 

" How cool this is ; my father has betrothed 

240 My puny self unto the daughter of 

The Duke of Normandy. What liberty 1 
Am I a child my father can engage 
My hand to any one he likes ? No doubt 
The lady will be suitable in most 

245 Respects ; but that is not the question ; tis ; 
The principle involved : for I am old 
Enough to choose a wife without behest 
And interference of my sire. I can't 
Afford to challenge his resentment by 

250 Refusing to obey. It makes me wild 
To have him act without consulting me 
Upon the matter : — so imperious 1 

" My Lord," Augustus said, "allow me to 
Congratulate you at this happy time, 

255 And hope your future will be pleasant as 
Your past. " 

" Accept concurring sentiments 
My lord, " the other supplemented ; but 
The heir exclaimed, with fever in his voice, 
" To both of you my hearty thanks are due ; 

260 But gentlemen you do not recollect 

That I have not been counselled in the ease. 
My father has betrothed me, but without 
My wish opinion or consent : it is, 
To be pronounced ia sentiment, a ^hame. 
The least his grace could do would be to ask 

265 The tenor of my feelings ; even that 

He has not done, or hinted such. I feel 
As though my manhood was debased that like 
A servant I am ordered to be married I " 
" Oh hush my lord. " Augustus interposed, 

2*70 His grace might hear you speak ! " 

• ** I scarcely kno-w 
That I am speaking so incensed I have 
Been made, " replied the reckless heir, as he 
Arose and paced the floor. Augustus then 



14 [Canto I. 

275 With mild advice observed : 

" Remember that 
His grace knows best : he plans for your ascent 
Upon the mount of fortune, and assure 
Yourself that he will soon enthrone 
His son upon a lofty eminence 

280 In life, providing that his son does not 

Pervert his course. His projects all matured 
He strives to make your happiness secure ; 
Nor would he wish to bind you for your life 
To one who would a wretched consequence 

285 Of married state effect. But rest assured 
That naught but happiness will issue from 
Your marriage with the house of Normandy. " 

While speaking there appeared upon the scene 
A page, who waited till the baron ceased, 

290 Then bowing said, ** Will Lord Augustus wait 
Upon his grace within the business room ? " 
• " Directly I will go," Augustus said, 
" I pray excuse my absence gentlemen." 
" Adieu my lord ! " with courteous assent 

295 The others spoke, and bowed in unison. 

" Proceed ! " Augustus ordered, and withdrew, 
Preceeded by the page in livery. 

" My lord," said Bertrand, " how do you regai'd 
The circumstance."' The baron thus replied : 

300 " From quite a different stand-point I am sure: 
For I should not object at all to such 
A favorable affair ; would bound with joy 
If it were I. and thank his grace with all 
My heart. Imagine what will come to pass ! 

305 The two estates united ; ample lands ; 

The treasury* full ; the massive fortresses ; 
A thousand horse ; ten thousand infantry ; 
Capacious rivers, and the forests rich — 
Why you conld emulate the splendor of 

310 The king, and rank tne highest of the peers." 

While these remarks were spoken Bei-trand eyed 
The speaker with a look of strange concern 
Upon his face : then when the peer had ceased 
He raised himself, and leaning forward spoke 

315 With earnestness and vigor in his voice. 



Line 316. J 16. 

" Would all this tinsel buy my happiness f 
"What if the conjugal relations should 
Not be as I would wish ; suppose my wife 
And I should writhe in quarrels and disputes ; 

320 Would not the demons of Inferno think 

That they had blundered in their residence, 
And make their nests within our very midst ? 
If I should rule with sway of iron it would 
Not help the case. Such life is misery I • 

325 My Duchess an aristrocratic slave, 

My presence shun with fear ; my children shrink 
From my embi-aee, and powerless would be 
My efforts to i-estrain their minds because 
Of her commauJiiig influence. For such 

330 Is often the result of marriages 

Where love is wanting, but where wealth is not, " 

Lord Arnaud now began to look alarmed, 
As rose the heir, and pacing back and forth, 
With scarce a pause resumes his fierce remarks. 

335 " I shudder at the very thought, and dread 
The evil consequence of such a match. 
How much would all my princely wealth be worth 
With circumstances raised to such a pitch, 
And I upon a bed of sickness laid ; 

340 To see the grudging ministi*ations of 

My Duchess — cold and careless of my pain. 
Indifference proving by her heedlessness. 
I could not make her love me ; threats are vain 
And punishments are powerless to make 

345 A bosom swell with pity or to wet 

An eye with grief. Imagine such a state ; 
With fever in my blazing eye ; my form 
Distorted with the tortures of disease ! 
Why even peasants have their humble lives 

350 Adorned by fondness of their loving wives ; 
And so do those of high degree as well. 
Whose hands are sold for love, not gold and hell ! " 
" Be still my lord ! " cried Arnaud, on whose face 
An aspect of alarm was rooted deep. 

355 But Bertrand heeded not the cautious lord, 

" When sickness lays them low they feel the soft 
And cooling hand of wife or child 
In tender pity laid upon the brow. 



16. [Canto I 

And loving eyes with tears bedimmed reveal 

360 Affliction, and the trembling voice betrays 
Its deep solicitude. Such love exists 
Where hearts as well as hands are leagued. 
If I had all the wealth of Nineveh within 
My grasp and racked with pain or grief, 

365 I'd turn my face and beg the deity 
On high to take it all and render a* 
Affectionate devoted wife to me 
In piace. Oh gliastly gold, thou ally of 
The Devil, in whose ranks enlisted to 

310 Deprave the hearts of men : corrupting hook. 
By Moloch forged upon the anvils of 
The black infernal ]>it, to grapple men 
And women from the crystal waters of 
Their innocence, ( " Be still 1 " the peer exclaimed, 

375 Defiling vitiating all the pure 

And honest meditations of their hearts 
And noble actions of their lives 1 More terrible 
Art thou than ranks of steel ; more subtile than 
A treacherous cur ; more fascinating than 

380 A serpent's gaze, more venomous than his fangs ; 
More deadly than the eye of basilisk. 
For with its yellow blaze it sears the soul ; 
Its ring more fatal than the toll of doom 
Unto a crimnal's ear : — Oh cursed be 

385 Thy very name abhorrent gold 1 " 

He ceased, 
And dropped into a chaii-. The other was 
With consternation mute. He had essayed 
To check the rash young lord, but all in vain, 
lie Avould not listen to him, but with fierce 

390 Expi'ession, unpremeditated phrase. 

He liurled invectives at the object of 
His wrath, nor knew the deep significance 
Of what he said. 

When he had ceased a page 
Appeared, and in the name of Anjou asked 

395 If Arnaud would attend upon his grace. 

" 1 will be promptly there, " was his reply : 
Then to the heir ol)served ; " Do not my loid 
Express your feelings quite so vi'lently. 
If brought to hearing of his grace it would 



Line 400.1 17. 

400 Provoke his iadigaatioa ; for you know 
Opinions are not always reverenced. " 

Then bowing he repaired unto the Duke ; 
And as he leaves the heir in moody frame 
Of mind and countenance depressed, we bid 

-105 The drawing room and occupant adieu, 
Allow an interval of time to pass. 
And meet again on premises elsewhere. 

THIRD SECTION. 

The Duke of Normandy has left for home : 
Arrangements have been made, the date is fixed 
410 For Bertrand's wedding — Sixty days from hence. 
When next we see the Duke of Aujou and 
His son, they sit conversing in his grace's room — 
His business room, where ceremony is 
Observed but carelessly, for servants come 
115 And barons go at will. The trouble is 
The doors are hung too eas'ly, and the floor 
Is carpeted too softly for the good 
Of all concerned ; a fact so obvious 
That one must wonder that the Duke 
420 Allowed such freedom in the room we see. 
But listen, for his grace prepares to speak. 
" My son, I sent for you to ask advice : 
My Treasurer Dnmain, you know is dead : 
As now it is a fortnight since he breatlied 
425 His last, I must not waste the time in doubts 
Of who shall be the one to fill his place. " 

But who is that who turns with softest touch 
The knob, and pulls aside the door, while speaks 
The Duke ; then enters, glides behind a screen 
J.30 "With step as soft as time's advances ? Ah ! 
Ambition is the monarch of the soul, 

The ruling passion both for good and ill. 
Aloft it stands the reason's charioteer, 

And onward drives the chargers of the will. 
^35 The spy behind the screen is Arnaud. 

But 
The Duke without a halt continues thus : 

" But still I hesitate, and waver in 
My choice between Augustus, Arnaud and 



18. [Canto 1. 

The rest. So give me your advice without 
440 Reserve ; dispel the biased feeiiogs of 

A friend ; consider that the office is 

A trying one, that taxes skill and nerve ; 

Reflect upon the merits of the men. 

Their honesty, ability, and facts 
445 That prove their competence for such a post — 

Then counsel me in all sincerity 

That my decision may be justly made, " 

As he concluded Bertraiid turned and looked 

His father in the face with earnestness. 
450 " Your grace I do sincerely beg of you 

That Arnaud be not made the treasurer. " 

"Indeed!" returned the Dnko, "what makes you thu'-' 

Disturbed about the gentleman ? " To which 

His son replied : 

" I have no charge to make, 
455 But simply tliis : There is a somethino; in 

The nervous twitching of his cheek denotes 

A spirit of tmeasiness ; his eye 

Cannot be met at steady gaze, and would 

Betray a concience ill at ease ; his lip 
460 Is curled sarcastically — in truth a scroll 

From which I trace his secret character — 

Corrupt deceitful and unprincipled ; 

A man who would deceive a bosom friend, 

That by the act he mi!2;ht augment his gain. 
465 Dislike with him is milder word for hate. 

Although the consequence is just the same ;• 

And should the wretched victim fall within 

That dark circumference of mortal spite, he's doomed. 

'No pleasure has he in the lofty flights 
470 Of intellect : luxuriant excess 

His only joy ; for Nature has no charms 

For him ; her lovely countenance is but 

A tedious pageant in his selfish eyes. 

Indifferent to affection, all he seeks 
475 And labors for in life is to exalt 

His name and fortune at whatever cost. 

Although of mild exterior, his rage 

When thwarted burns within unseen 

And fierce. Within that secret grasp there lurks 
480 The lubricated dirk of flatterv. — 



Line 481.] 19. 

" Enough! "said Anjou stopping him before 
He could continue, " Your indictment has 
A ring of argument, and carries weight. 
But still the sentence of your judgment may 
485 Be wrong. " At which bis son leplied with warmth : 
" But sterling judgment laughs at evidence, 
And may convict with justice in the face 
Of all. ■" 

To which the Duke replied, " Tis done ; 
Augustus shall be Treasurer. I have 
490 Another matter of importance to 

Confer about, so let us take a walk 
Upon the terrace lawn and talk of that. " 

With these remarks tbey both arose and left 
The room. When they had gone the baron stepped 
495 From out behind the friendly screen. His face 
Displayed tumultuous passions charging through 
His frame. His fingers closed, his teeth were set, 
And through the orifices Lissed his rag^e. 

" The blatant wretch ! n:o thus defame my name ! 
500 I might ?iave been the treasurer of this 
Important dukedom, rich and powerful, 
In rank but second to the duke himself, 
But for this meddling, lying, infamous 
And slandering young heir. If he were not 
505 The son of Anjou I would run him through. 
And make him feel my hatred, not by words, 
But more substantially. I have it now ! " 
That door again ! Augustus entered just 
As Arnaud uttered the concluding words. 
510 " What is it that you have my lord?" he asked; 
But all that he could learn was briefly this : 
'* A simple plan matured, but which would be 
. Of little int'rest to yourself." Then down 
They sat in silence, for Augustus was 
5l5 Too courteous to press the question more. 

The Duke re-entered, saw the barons there, 
Determined to appiise Augustus of 
The office he would fill. Then leaning by 
A window he composed a little speech 
520 To grace the matter. 

While he stood, the first 
To notice him was Arnaud. Through his brain 



20. [Cajjto I. 

Revenge went galloping with fierce dispatch. 
And thus he muttered to himself : 

" The time 
Has come to strike." Then to Augustus said; 
525 " My lord you did not hear what Bertrand had 
'To say about the Duke, alluding to 
The case with Normandy ? " 

" Why no, " replied 
The future Treasurer, " I did not hear." 

" You would have been surprised at his remai-ks; 
530 His violent language was of such a tone 

I begged him to desist. I feared his grace 
Would hear, and boil with wrath, so loudly spoke 
His son. " 

" But did he disrespectfully 
Pronounce against his grace's action," asked 
535 Augustus ; but with villainy upon 
His features spoke the baron : 

J" Well, he said 
like a servant to 
Be married ; spoke of those who sell their hands 
For love not gold ; again, ' where hearts as well 

540 As hands are joined ; ' then fell to cursing gold 
With such a vim I begged him to be calm. 
Of course you see that when he curses gold 
He does not mean the yellow colored coin 
That jingles with its fellows in the purse, 

545 But what it represents : you see my lord ? " 
A fortune waits the artist who can paint 
A diabolical expression such as clothed 
The features of the baron. Villainy 
Satanic revelled on his countenance, 

550 And burned within the pupil of his eye, 
" You surely do not mean to intimate 
That Bertrand cursed his father under guise 
Of cursing gold ? " Augustus asked the peer 
In anxious tone. 

" But this is what he said ; 

655 * Accursed be thy name abhorrent gold 1 ' 
What could he mean if he did not intend 
To curse his father through the medium 
Of gold ? I certainly interpret that 
He would imply his grace of Anjou is 



Line 560. ] 21. 

660 Of avaricious nature. " 

" Not so loud ! " 
Augustus cautioued, as he glanced around ; 
But as his sight was not the best he did 
Not notice that the Duke was standing in 
A shadow by the window, which concealed 

565 Him from a hasty glance. Twas raining too. 
" He then continued in this strain ? " 

" Until 
I begged him to be still, besought him to 
Be calm ; for such a ranting I have not 
Been auditor for many years — against 

570 The gold but really 'gainst the sire. " 

" Dear me ! 
Augustus murmured. " Tis too bad : but let 
Us take a walk upon the terrace lawn, 
That we may not be overheard. " 

" Proceed 
My lord, " said Arnaud. By the arm he led, 

575 And almost pushed Augustus through the door, — 
A different one from that by which the Duke 
Was standing. 

Leaving them to find the rain, 
And Anjou to a meditation brief, 
We halt a moment in our 8tory,and 

680 Consider. Which was worse ? For Bertrand to 
Declare opinion as severe as he 
Had done, or Arnaud to betray a trust ? 
The object of the first was just, but that 
Of him who spoke the last was base revenge. 

585 Perhaps advice like this would suit the case, 
Although it would apply to Bertrand least : , 
Oh slander not the truth by telling that. 

Which may be truth but yet should not be told, 
For cowards often tell uu -called for facts, 

690 When braver men would pause to be bold. 

FOURTH SECTION. 

The Duke of Anjou roused himself and said. 
** A hint to understanding minds reveals 
A wealth of information. Does my son 
Assume the right to question my commands. 



22. [Canto L 

59o And to my barons doubt and analyze 

My motives, action, and my character, 

Until they warn him to be careful lest 

His violent ]anguat,^e should assail my ears ? " 
With anger in the act he struck a bell. 
600 A page responded, and the Duke exclaimed, 
'' I wish to see Lord Bertrand instantly ! " 
The lord of Anjou was not prone to lose 

His temper oftea, but when once aroused 

The mild pacific aspect disappeared, 
605 And left an angry animal to take 

The place of rational man. While waiting for 

His son he countermarched and muttered thus : 
*' To talk of me in such a manner ! why 

If he were not my very flesh and blood 
610 I would not hesitate to thrust him through 

Insult uig stripling that he is. Perhaps 

His habit is to thus degrade me to 

My officers within the palace walls. " 

While talking to himself his son appeared. 
615 " Your grace ? " he asked, with wonder on his fac > 

Alarmed at such behavior in his sire. 

" I see you're here ! " the Duke remarked, but » 

Incensed he scarcely could contain himself. 

" What do you Avish ? " his heir politely asked. 
620 With fury in the current of his speech 

His grace replied : 

" I understand that you 

Have soiled my name before my baron's eyes. 

My motives criticised, integrity 

Denied, accused me of dishonesty, 
625 And with disloyal conversations so 

Impaired the confidence existing in 

The court of Anjou, that you should not live 

To see the serious result if you 

Were not my son and heir ! But why upon 
630 A chair subside and hide thy whitened face ? 

Then it is so ? " His son Avas crushed into' 

A seat beneath the unexpected blow. 

With stunning force the recollection of 

His angry tirade smote his brain. The Duke 
635 Sincerely loved his son, and but for that 

Would p-.obably have harshly treated him. 



Line 336.] 21 

Recovering himself a moment he 
Remarked, 

" Remain within this room until 
I have composed myself sufficiently 

hiO To come again : I fear that I would do 
An action that I would regret as soon 
As done. Remember to remain ! " Then to 
The page who waited, curtly said, " Begone ! '' 
The Duke withdrew, and Bertrand, stupefied 

'J45 By such an unanticipated stroke 

Of dire calamity, expressed himself 
In this most son-owful soliloquy. 

" Ob misery, thy poignant dart doth piei'ce 
The deep mysterious chords of love and life ! 

650 But why repine and plunge my smil in griefs 
I am not solitary in my woe. 
On every hand the pall of sorrow hangs : 
Tt can be seen upon the countenance 
Of peasant and of piince. The weary drudge 

656 Whose bread is penury and whose p;:stime toil ; 
Whose sleep is haunted by the spectre of 
A lean and starving ghost ; the i-oyal wretch 
Who treason doth surmise among his peers, 
Who fears and dreams of daggers, poisons — all 

660 Have share alike with me the sorrows of 
A wretched world. " 

He ceased, and as the word," 
Were fading from his mind, the peer returned. 
As quick as lightning rends the midniglit gloom 
The situation dawned on Bertrand's mino'. 

665 Without a movement, hissing through his teeth, 
The heir saluted him : " So you have come 
To aggravate my woe ; you treacherous — " 

" What's this my lord that you accuse me of ? " 
The baron asked, but guessed the truth. 

670 '•' You have betrayed my confidence, and to 
His grace imparted conversations which 
You knew were for your ears alone, and not 
To be repeated. Oh deceitful cur ! " 
And Bertrand hurled the fierce invectives at 

675 The villain with a will. 

" Beware my lord. 
Or I will give you cause ! " said Arnaud then. 



24. [Canto I, 

A sudden spasm of convulsive rage 
Had rent tbe baron's brain and blinded him. 
" You are too flattered with yourself by far, " 

680 The heir replied, continuing his calm 
Demeanor which exasperated all 
The more the nuble, trembling in bis rage ; 
" I do not counteoauce your puny threats. " 
Then Aruaud answered, but with labored voice : 

685 " You would a quarrel pick ; I see your point 1 " 
As this was spoken ( Oh that door again 1 ) 
His grace returned unseen ; for both were so 
Absorbed by passion's blinding mist they knew 
Not what environed them, 

" I care not what 

690 You see ; you have betrayed me, that's enough : 
And raised between ray father and myself 
A barrier that may not be dissolved 
Without a serious trouble. " Bertrand spoke 
With vehemence. The baron thus returned : 

695 " You think you are alone in this respect ; 
But you have slandered me unto the Duke 
In manner both outrageous and unjust. 
What have I done to you that you should speak 
Unto his grace with such an influence, 

700 As to destroy effectually the hopes 

That I had entertained of being Treasurer ? " 

" Who told you this ? " inquired the startled heir. 
" It does not matter who, " the peer replied. 
" The subject of our conversation is 

705 Our mutual criminations, " 

" Dirty spy ! ' 
Responded Bertrand, turning up hig nose, 
" I told the truth, but not to injure you: 
I have my interest in this broad estate ; 
And for that very interest it was most ^ 

710 Expedient that I have a word upon 
A matter of extreme importance as 
The Treasurer. " 

But Arnaud made reply 
In heated voice : " In doing such you have 
With ruthless tongue my chances of a high 

715 Promotion so destroyed, my character 
Besmirched, my reputation injured, that 



Line 111.] 25. 

I never can be trusted by tlie Duke 
To any office of importance, but 
Must ever be a cipher in the court. " 

720 To which the heir replied in haste : 

" And you by faithless act have told his grace 
The conversations I have held with you. 
In violation of a trust imposed. " 

Then sharply came the answer back : 

" And you, 

725 By vile calumnious report have so 
Defamed my name — " 

But Bertrand broke him off 
Before the period : 

" I weighed thee right ; 
My scales of insight and perception are 
Too finely balenced thus to be unjust. " 

730 Then rising to his feet he sternly said, 

" Thy soul is tainted, and thy conscience blunt : 

No crime has visited thy heart perhaps, 

But that is opportunity's neglect ; 

And should occasion offer thou wouldst not 

735 A moment hesitate but feed thyself 

With fruit that others glean. Thine honesty 
Is girdled by thy greed ; enveloped in 
That darkened circlet dwells thy soul confined." 
With look and gesture furious the wretch 

740 Exclaimed, " A lie, a base malicious lie ! " 

In briefer space of time than takes to wi'ite 
The two had drawn their swords with ringing whip, 
And crossed. Before a single passage could 
Be made a whistling hiss was heard ; their swords 

745 Were dashed apart, and in astonishment 

They turned to see the Duke of Aujou there. 

" Beware !" he said severely. * ' sheathe your swords ; 
I'll have no fighting here. " Then speaking to 
The baron thus, he summed the matter up : 

750 Lord Arnaud, I have found you guilty of 
Offence against my son and me He had 
The right to counsel me as he would judge 
Correct. Our conversation you have heard 
By listening like a spy: I cannot find 

755 Excuse for that. I overheard you put 
The lie to Anjou's heir, not hearing as 



26. [Cast® - 

A spy, but stood unnoticed in the room. 
But he who tells my son he lies, insults 
My training and reproaches me. My son 

760 May do you wrong, but I am here to see 

That justice shall be rendered to the wronged. 
Depart ; collect your goods and put them on 
Your horse, and my dominions leave. Begone ! 
I want no more of you. " 

The peer retired 

765 In sad and moody frame of mind, without 

A word. When he had gone his grace observed 
With milder countenance : 

" But you my son 
Cannot escape a punishment for your 
Misdeeds. You have impaired the discipline 

7*70 That is the groundwork of our martial laws, 
And must not be imperiled, cost what may. 
In order that you may have time to think 
What you have done, and that I may forget 
The wrong you have committed in my sight, 

775 You must withdraw from Anjou for a month. 

And wander where you will, that you may thus 
Be brought to realize the danger of 
Objecting to my will in such a way. " 

FIFTH SECTION. 

The next we see of Bertrand, is, with hands 
780 Behind his back, he wanders aimlessly 

Around, through room and hall, in reverie, 

" A month, one month of roving to and fro. 
An exile for the period, though the heir 
Of Anjou. Had I wished to take a slight 
785 Vacation 'twould have been denied; for such 
I recently desired : my father though. 
Saw fit my wishes to refuse. Then why 
Do I object ? Because it beats against 
The current of a mortal's life to be 
790 Compelled. The very suicide, that's plucked 
From out the water would bewail his fate 
If doomed to death by drowning. Well, I mue«t 
Retire to deep obscurity, while on 
Her course the queen of night revolves upon 



Line 795. 1 21 

795 Her moatblj wax and wane, to hide her face 
And re-sippear in flamiuii^ luster clothed. 
It will not be so evil after all ; 
For T can spend my time in many ways : 
I'll hunt and fish, and sport with peasant youths 

800 And maids. But none sliall know my name or rank 
Disguised as gentleman of means, 1' 11 pass 
My time among the rustics, and enjoy 
The pleasures of a pastoral career, 
And iunoceot enjoyment with the swains. 

805 Some district unfamiliar I will choose, 
Where I am stranger to tlie peasantry. 
Ah well, what matters it : a dungeon is 
A palace if you choose to make it so. " 
When thus he had concluded he was in 

810 A room alone, reclining on a couch 

In solemn fi-aine of miud. But Arnaud now 
Was ready to be off, and searching for 
The heir to hurl a parting word at him. 
" Adieu Lord Bertraud ! I congi-atulate 

815 You that you are protected by your sire. 
If we should meet in solitude your corpse 
Would quickly need a grave and epitaph. 
But no ! what satisfaction would there be 
In killing? Listen to my speech. If you 

820 Sliould fall within my grip I would not run 
You through, but keep you for a sharper fate 
Thau that. " 

" You speak as though I were a child 
And not a man," said Bertrand with a sneer. 
" But hear me what I say, " his foe returned ; 

825 Unless I act in self-defence I will 

Not touch you to your harm : — but this I'll do : 
Your life so wretched I will make that you 
Will hate to live : — " 

" Desist. " Lord Bertrand cried. 
Provoked beyond endurance ; yet retained 

830 His seat, and would not deign to rise, and show 
The slightest deference to the peer, who stood 
As page before his lord : " Your threats are vain, 
And fall abortive on a listless ear. " 

*' Oh you can sneer. " the baron still went on 

B35 Persistinglj, " But I will have revenge. 



28. [Canto I, 

Anticipate the day when life will be 
A weighty burden on your groaning back. 
And in your crazy desperation put 
An end to mortal ills by violent act. 
840 I would not slaughter you and soil my hands, 
But make you save me trouble — " 

Bertrand broke 
Him off : " Oh quit your talk ; begone ! " 

But still 
The exile plied his tongue, and hissed the words 
Between his fettered teeth, as through the door 
845 He passed : — 

" For I will make you kill yourself. " 



CANTO II. 

THE RESOLUTION. 
** /7/ face the -world and all its ivoe, " 

FIRST SECTION. 

The monareli of the day retreats before 
The forces of the night. Reluctantly 
Withdrawing from the field, with face to foe 
He step by step relinquishes the ground, 
6 And down behind horizon's friendly shade 
He shelter takes in mighty solitude. 
The scene that is presented to the eye 
Is 15eautiful indeed ; a garden rich. 
With foliage and flower thick and sweet. 

10 We now are walking in the Normandy 
Estate, the garden of the Duke ; a spot 
Where nature bloomed beneath the hand of man. 

But while we marvel at its beauty, from 
The shade there steps a charming maiden, sweet 

15 As nature ever fashioned virgin form. 

Philosopher ! pray tell why man is rough 
And harsh, but woman beautiful ? 

' " Ah man. 
Thy God created thee for stern intents : 
To labor, plan and execute designs : 

20 To sway the sceptre of domestic rule ; 

To bear the burden of the home and state ; 
Defend the weak, and punish the depraved, 
Eor duties such he has endowed thee with ^ 
An intellect and frame sufficient for 

25 The purpose : understanding deep, a breadth 
Of thought, creative force ; a brain 
That teems with reason, glows with intellect. 



30. [Canto II. 

And bubbles forth refreshment to mankind. 
A vigorous physique he has bestowed 

30 For thy necesssity : although abused 
Too often, when developed will assume 
The texture of Damascus steel. And as 
The rugged rock, unlovely, will retain 
Its shape, though fiercely lashed on ocean strand — 

35 So man, of rugged countenance, preserves 

The strength of features, firm and noble, with 
But little change from manhood to the grave. 

" How diiferent woman's sphere : tis hers to make 
The home a paradise and life utopia ; 

40 To smooth the furrows from the brow of care, 
And purge the gloomy vision from the eye. 
Her mind possesses keen perception, but 
Without enduring strength to bear the great 
Responsibilities of life, or power 

45 To greet despair and conquer foe on foe. 
Her form is fragile, lovely as a rose, 
The fountain of the race, the wonder of 
The seraphim on high. Her face defies , 
Comparison among the labyrinthg 

60 Of nature, and is peerless in the vast 

And wondrous works of God. And as the rose, 
Attired in charming ornament, will cause 
The hoary rock to wonder, and despair 
Of rivalling its beauty, so does this 

55 Enchanting creature captivate the heart 
Of man, Above the superficial pomp, 
External grace, her , spirit ranks. The meek 
Unselfish soul and loving heart, revealed 
In look and gesture, animate the face 

60 And form with wondrous beauty, and augment 
Her presence with angelic attributes. 
But when the hurricane of time has scourged 
Them both, the rock will proudly lift its crest 
Above the waves, and though before esteemed 

65 A harsh unlovely bulk, he rises now 

Majestic from the tide to claim applause. 
The rose ! ah where is that ? It lives ; but shed 
A tear above the faded, blasted head 1 
'' Remember, man, your destiny is toil, 

70 A physical and mental strain ; for you 



Line 11. ] 31. 

Are qualified by nature for the task — 
But -woman's empire is the hearth and home : 
And her design should be to elevate 
Her sti'ong protector. Though her life should be 
75 Encumbered with anxiety, fatigues, 

Aud household tasks and burdens, she should strive 
To cast a beam of sunshine in his soul : 
For he is vexed and tempted on the harsh 
And unrestrictd road of life as she 
80 Is not, whose province is the guarded home. 
Aud he should cast his stronger arm ai'ound 
Her feebler frame, defend it from the shocks 
Of daily struggle, — she whose office is 
To cheer his life ; her efibrts piaise, and thus 
85 Appreciate the love she bears for him. 

But to our narrative : the lady walks 
Upon the garden path with dainty step, 
Aud thus soliloquises to herself* — 

" Oh lovely twiliglit! fast the shadows fall 
90 To sleep. Tha balm of peace on nature has 
Been laid with gentle touch, and on its breast 
The landscape into slumbers has been soothed. 
All life has gone to rest. A day has died : 
And never shall its light be gazed upon 
95 Again by God or man. Its joys shall live 
Within the memory, to be recalled 
As pleasing sights : its sorrows too have gone ; 
Within the mind they countermarch like an 
Abiding guard. The gloom of night enwraps 

100 In somber hue the sleeping world. See how 
The gorgeous moon asserts its presence by 
The splendor of its countenance, and like 
Heroic souls has brighter grown within 
The deeper gloom. Behold the comet rise 

105 Behind the fringe of trees, and flame upon 
The inky ether sea. Superb display ! 
A captivating sight! What can it mean? 
Oh mighty symbol of impending fate 1 
What burning secret dwells within the deep. 

110 Mysterious mass that marches by the stars 
With dignity sublime ? this oracle 
That strives to rival the great orb of day. 
I fancy 'tis the sign of some great joy 



32. [Canto II. 

Prepared to cheer the hearts of young and old. 
115 Perchance it is the shade of some unkind 
Disaster that forewarns impending death ; 
Perchance it is the waving of the blade, 
Before the fatal stroke that steals the breath." 

SECOND SECTION. 

" Tis time for Abbot Augustine to come, " 
120 Said Catherine, the daughter of the Duke 
Of Normandy, " and liear confession from 
Me. Ah, a stranger here ! " 

A cowled monk 
Appeared, M'hile she was lost in reverie. 
And rapidly approached. It was not ho 
125 Who was habitual at even tide, 

To hear the simple story of her sins. 

" Good evening, fat her ; please disclose your name. 
That we may not be strangers. How is it 
That Abbot Augustine has not appeared, 
180 And you have come in place of him ? " 

" The name 
I bear is Father Charles, " returned the monk : 
"The Abbot Augustine is kept to-night 
From waiting on you, as the bishop paid 
A visit to the cloister today, 
135 Which has engaged his time so much, that he 
Requested me to meet you here, and thus 
Explain his absence. " 

What familiar voice 
Is that? It echoes on the lively ear 
With strange accentuation, as a chord 
140 Of long forgotton music peals among 

The chambers of the brain. The friar's hood 
Conceals his face, so we must wait and watch. 
" I feared the Abbot might be ill, " said she. 
" Oh not at all! " the monk replied in haste; 
145 " The service at the chapel has enjoined 
His absence there a period. " 

"Is not 
The Abbot Augustine a righteous man? " 
Exclaimed the heiress in her ardent praise, 
*' His holy life my admiiatiou stirs. 



Line 151.] 33. 

I always was persuaded lie should be 
A layman, not a monk, that by his zeal 
The cause he might augment, by holding some 
Exalted office in the state ; for such 

155 Integrity would be a jewel in 

The coronet of any duke. But now 
His virtues are obscured by stony walls, 
And in the Abbey glows oblivious 
The hidden light. " 

" Perhaps you'r right my child, " 

160 Returned the monk, whose face was turned to her. 
But hidden from our view by folds of cowl. 
" But now be seated daughter, that I may 
Impart some news that doubtless will surprise. " 
*• Tis pleasant I should hope, " returned the girl. 

165 " Perhaps. " The curt remark was not the kind 
To foster peace of mind at all. " Have you 
Been told that you would shortly be espoused 
Unto the heir of Anjou ? " asked the monk. 

'' Why father ! no ; " exclaimed the wondering maid. 

170 " Tis strange indeed : I do not understand. 
Has not his grace informed you of his late 
Betrothal of your hand ? " 

" No father ; he 
Has not I " she said, her face a subject for 
A sketch. 

'* Then listen child, " began the friar ; 

1*75 "I lately left the monastery, near 

The country seat of Anjou's princely duke : 
And while I dwelt within those sacred walls 
I heard confession from the dukedom's heir ; 
And much I sorrow to relate what he 

180 Confessed to me, with careless speech, of all 
His manifold iniquities which he 
Had perpertrated. Sad, yes very sad ! 
He said he would amend, but broke his word. 
And plunged the deeper into vice. I begged 

185 Him to consider what he did, for oft 

He came, and I refused him not; although 
I knew he came for sport, but tried to wield 
^n influence upon his wasted life. 
With jovial companions he would charge 

190 His system with the wine, until he reeked, 



34. [Canto II. 

And staggered in the streets in shameful plight." 
A tremor of convulsive anguish shook 

The soul of Catherine. With eyesight fixed 

Upon the ground in glassy stare, her face 
195 As pallid as the brow of death, she breathed 

These faintly uttered words : 

" Oh wretchedness 

Personified! is this the fate I must 

Expect? to dukes and princes vended like 

An animal ! My father shall be told. " 
200 The hand of Father Charles is closing tight ! 

But why ? This action is extremely strange. 
" But tell me father, " Lady Catherine 

Inquired ; "why do you thus impart to me 

This information ? Are'nt you bound to keep 
205 The secrets of the ones who trust you with 

Their confidence ? " 

To which the monk replied : 

" I know my child ; but you forget my aim ; 

For bound unto this man your life would be 

As though t were blasted by the breath of Hell ! 
210 He soon would be as though a demon had 

Escaped his chains to slumber at your side. 

Do not you see my motive child? have not 

I acted right in thus exposing his 

Corruptions to yourself, to save you from 
215 A fearful fate in time ? and so, doth not 

The motive vindicate the act ? " 

The maid 

Was silent for a moment, then replied 

With warmth ; " I thank you Father Charles for your 

Solicitude, and hope my gratitude 
220 To prove by serving you." Her face sufficed 

To guarantee her words. " But liisten, child. 

He said, " A stern injunction I impose ; 

All word about our conversation must 

Avoid your lips. I charge you not to say 
225 A word about the matter to a soul. 

But meditate, and consummate your plans." 
" But tell me Father," Catherine returned 

In anxious tone of voice, " What shall I do ? 

Can not vou counsel me to act ? " 



Line 230. ] 35. 

The monk 
230 Replied, " Impossible : I am not versed 
About the discipline his grace observes, 
N'or of relation with the Anjous ; for 
I might advise a foolish act because 
Of ignorance of circumstances. You 
235 Are best alone. " 

A sigh escaped the lips 
Of Catherine as thus he spoke. A voice 
Was heard among the shrubbery at this 
Depressing moment, calling, 

" Catherine ! 
My Lady Catherine ! " who called response, 
240 " I come my dearest nurse ! " then to the monk — • 
" Adieu good Father Charles ; I thank you in 
The warmth of mind and heart for your sincere, 
Unbounded kindness unto me. " 

The nurse 
Appeared, emerging from the shadows of 
245 The trees, and said, " My Lady ! " 

And the girl 
Returned, " Good Nurse, Confessor Charles. " 

The monk 
Inclined his figure slightly, but the nurse 
Replied with court'sy, " Pleased I am to meet 
You Father Charles," 

And Catherine observed 
250 With gentle looks of love, 

" My nurse has been 
A mother in my lonely years : in time 
Of sorrow she has been a comforter, 
A soother of my childish griefs ; for there 
Are times when father's love, however strong, 
255 Will ftiil to pacify a child's distress. 
A woman's faculties are tested then, 
And from the infant heart extends a bond 
That firmly grasps a woman's sympathy." 
To wl.ich the hooded friar replied with bow, 
260 " I am delighted you are favored so." 

The nurse addressed her mistress with remark, 
"His grace your father wishes you to go 
To him." 

" Then I must leave," the heiress said, 



36. [Canto ll. 

" Good evening Father Charles ! " 

The friar replied, 

265 " Grood evening daughter : faithful nurse, adieu ! " 
The monk stood watching them until they passed 
Beyond his sight, then fiercely tossing back 
His hood, with knotted fists he bruised the air, 
And screamed with pent up fury in his voice : 

270 " And so, the howling hounds of vengance are 

Cut loose ! Success ! now let them go, and waste 
The path they tread ; so long as Bertrand is 
The victim of their thirsty teeth I care 
But little what and where they devastate ! " 

2*75 The voice no longer is a mystery ; 

The savage brute is Arnaud, in disguise. 
Becoming calmer he resumed his seat. 

" Four days ago I left the Anjous ; here 
T am ; my life devoted to the cause 

280 Of hate — to ruin all the hopes of him 

Who thwarted my ambition, slandered me 
With lying tongue, and caused my downfall from 
His grace's favor. Once resolved upon 
A scheme I bought this consecrated garb. 

285 I knew the Abbot Augustine : to him 

I went, and told him I had come to leave 
A life of pleasure and of sin, and wished 
To consecrate myself to holy things. 
Of course he was surprised, but took me in. 

290 I watched for opportunity, and when 
The Bishop came the Abbot Augustine 
Was in a plight : he had engaged to see 
The Lady Catherine at certain time 
To hear confession. Then the Bishop came, 

295 And he at loss for what to do, until ^ 
I asked if I could be his messenger, 
And tell the lady why he was detained. 
As youngest I could easiest be spared 
From that impressive ceremony ; but 

300 He hesitated, then consented. So 

I'm here ; determined, scheming — thirsting for 
My adversary's soul : for I will make 
Him kill himself in spite of all his sneers. 
I will not be contented with his life, 

305 But T shall hurl his soul unto its doom." 



Line 306.] »1 

THIRD SECTIOI^. 

Our scene is shifted to the sitting-room 
Of Normandy, and there we see the Duke, 
His grace is seated reading, but he drops 
The book observing, 

" Catherine should come : 

310 I sent for her to tell the fortune I 

Have stored for her. I know she will be pleased : 
What woman lives without a yearning to 
Become a happy wife, and thus fulfill 
The law of marriage — noblest of divine 

315 Conceptions yet essayed. No being formed 

Of Earth's decaying substance could have thought 
Of any plan or institution that 
Would bear the shocks that matrimony has. 
With Sabbath, hand in hand they rode above 

320 The fall of man, the Deluge, heathenish 
Abasements ; promises to live as long 
As man exists and woman treads the earth." 

When he had ceased soliloquising thus 
His daughter entered. It must be confessed 

325 That hers was not a cheerful frame of mind, 

Nor was her manner blithe. His grace did not, 
However, notice this but said to her, 

" Come hither child, and sit beside my knee. 
My daughter, I regret to speak to you 

330 About a circumstance to give you joy 

But bring me sorrow. It has been an aim 
And object of my life to see you well 
And nobly married. To this end I have 
Selected for your husband one who is 

335 Of noble birth and handsome countenance. 

*' My daughter, you with spirits young and rife 
Have been the rainbow of my darkened life. 
Your mother died when young, and I bereft- 
Alone to stem the tide of life was left, 

340 How much I lost no soul will ever know, 
No tongue can speak the burden of my woe. 
Then you were left me to console my grief, 
And in distress bestow a sweet relief. 
But now it seems as though my very soul 

345 Must part with me and nothing can condole. 



38. [Canto II. 

" Mv daughter I have promised you shall be 

The wife of Bertrand, son of Anjou." 

While 

The Duke was speaking tempests stirred the soul 

Of Catherine from every quarter of 
350 Her being, storming and conflicting each 

Against the other. Filial affection due 

And consequent obedience ; her own 

Desires and just demands ; her duty to 

Her God, whose frown she feared, and knew it would 
365 Be turned against sucli n.arriages — such thoughts. 

Such fierce emotions — many more that can't 

Be named — were struggling each with each, like binls 

Of prey contending in mid air, or winds 

In opposition that give lusty birth 
360 To whirl-winds, water-spouts and scenes of death. 

Her tongue was bound, but by an effort freed 

From that enthral ment only whispered this : 
" Oh father : has your grace betrothed me to 

The gentleman ? " 

" I have," replcd the Duke. 
365 '• But why conceal your face ? Oh yes. I see, 

Tis woman sure enougli. But say my dear, 

How does the prospect please you? Come, expose 

Your face that I may read your mind." 

But she 

Was fearful of the cor, sequence, and kept 
3*70 Her face averted, and with desperate will 

Controlled her voice sufficiently to say 

At last, 

" I must reflect your grace ; it is 

A subject that I need to meditate 

Upon before the mind is fit to give 
375 Its sentiments unto the tongue. Besides, 

I am not well to-night : it robs me of 

My usual cheerfulness.'' 

Had she essayed 

A sentence more her voice would liave refused 

To do its duty, and she feared his grace 
380 Would hear the awful throbbiugs of her heart. 
" Well then retire," said Normandy, in terms 

Of gentleness, " and contemplate upon 

The fortune that has smiled upon you so 



Line 384.] 39. 

Auspiciously." 

" I will remember what 
385 You say your grace," said Catherine, "Goodnight." 
" Good night," the Duke responded, and resumed 
His book, his daughter passing sadly out. 

Poor Catherine ! the bust exalted on 
The lofty pedestal endures a far 
390 Severer finishing than those whose ranks 

Are lowly. Though it chafes beneath the blows 
That fall, the master hand is eonscims that 
The peerless bust should have the greatest care. 

FOURTH SECTION. 

Our scene reverts again, and we are in 
395 The garden of the palace. Catherine 

And Nurse are strolling on the walks, and by 
Her voice we find our heroine is sad. 

" My dearest nurse, I know not what to do : 
I dare not frame an opposition to 
40U His grace's will ; but I must not consent 
To this espousal unto Anjou's son." 

" My lady," said the nurse in soothing tone 
But firmly/ " Do you not appreciate 
The magnitude of kindness that his grace 
405 Bestows upon you ? Had he wished he might 
Have married you to many dukes who would 
Have been completely crazed with happiness 
To have secured your hand. But they are old 
Or cross or wicked, while the one his grace 
410 Has carefully selected is so young 

So handsome and withal so very rich, 
That you should acquiesce without a word." 

" Ah well ! " responded Catherine in deep 
Despair, " Be kind enough to leave me now : 
415 For Father Charles approaches, and I wish 
To make confession to him, so I will 
Be soon again with you." 

" I shall expect 
You shortly," said the nurse, and disappeared. 
" I wonder why he comes," she thought, " I did 
420 Not send for him : but I am glad to see 
Him though," 



40. [Canto II. 

She sat upon the rustic bench 
And waited. Soon appeared the falcon, decked 
In pigeon's feathers, meek and docile as 
A dove. 

" Grood evening Father," said the maiil. 

425 " Good evening daughter," he replied. " I've Avatcaed 
For many hours for you : — now what is there 
To tell?" 

" There's nothing worthy to relate ; 
Except that all is settled ; I'm to be 
The wife of Anjou's son." She spoke it from 

430 A heavy heart, poor child. 

" But have you not 
Protested to your father ? surely he 
Would not compel you to become the wife 
Of one whose sms appal the light of day ! " 

435 *' Oh no ! " burst out the heiress in despair, 
" It cannot be that he would sell me to 
A life of wretcheduess ; he is too kind ; 
Hi* words are freighted with the impulse of 
A loviag heart." Then pausing in her grief 

440 A moment she resumed with sternness, 

" Still, 
The king of beasts is harmless till you cross 
His path. My father, inoffensive as 
The undulating sea, may storm with rage 
Confounding if aroused by violence 

445 Of passion. But he loves his child, and would 
Not sacrifice her happiness that whims 
Might be indulged he may be burdened with. 
Ah me, what shall I do ! " 

" My daughter strive 
To keep composed," the wretch observed, " and think 

450 Of your profession when adversity 
Has struck the tender sensibilities." 
And then the villain muttered to himself, 
" Oh how ingenious is revenge ! " 

Then said 
The heiress in despondent tone, " I will 

455 Request him to consider his resolve." 

" I would," said he, " and by your graces seek 
To change his mind. With pleading tongue and terms 
Of love assail his purpose ; thus compel 



Line 469. ] 41. 

Him to repent the act : paternal love 

460 Will then assert itself, and you your suit 
Obtain." 

To this the maid replied, " But -what 
If he refuses me ! "' 

The man returned, 
" I leave the answer to yourself my child." 
And as he spoke the wolfish eyes were set 

465 Upon her features with a greedy stare 
As though to char her hidden soul. 

She looked 
Confused, distracted, passed her hand across 
Her forehead, gazed in vacancy and said, 
" Tis circumstauces such as these that make 

4*70 The lunatic. The mind confronted by 
Determined evils strives to master them, 
But often fails. The pitiless foes renew 
The fierce assault, until the reason, vexed 
Beyond its strength surrenders, and becomes 

475 A void, or by the self-destroying act 
Admits defeat." 

While speaking she had raised 
Her head ; her eye had brightened, and her cheek 
Assumed a slightly crimson tinge ; and as 
Continuing she spoke, a vigor sprang 

480 Into her being all unknown before 
And fierce to view. 

" The prince of cowards is 
The suicide, and I will not be one : 
I'll face the world and all its woe ; for by 
The aid of hira who lit the sun I will 

485 Subdue the hostile foe and stamp upon 

Its neck. The noble house of Normandy 
Has never known a slave, nor will I be 
The first." 

To Arnaud then she said, *' Adieu 
Good Father Charles ; you met me as a child, 

490 But now you see a woman, stern and strong. 
As exercise invigorates the frame, 
Adversity endues the mind with strength, 
And animates the intellect to cope 
With greater ills. Our troubles are not sent 

495 Without design ; the spirit, fortified 



41 [Canto 11. 

And chastened by the stern ordeal, from thence 

Emerges girt with strength. I now must go 

And see his grace." 

Confused, her foe replied, 

" Mj blessings shall attend your efforts child ; 
500 Be prudent firm and brave." 

" Rely upon 

Me Father Charles," the heii-ess said, '■ Adieu ! " 
" Adieu my daughter ! " he replied, and as 

He watched the slight receding figuie pass 

Beyond his sight he muttered to himself 
505 With wondering visage, " Certainly I think 

No artiziin has had a better tool 

To serve his needs than I possess. What sti-ength 

Of intellect, intensity and foice 



Of character, and energy of 



WH 



510 I've faced a bear in depth of forest, felt 

The breath of mountain boar, but never was 
So cowed as when I gazed upon her fierce 
Deportment, standing like Minerva, wrapped 
In all the dignity of Cdnseious might. 

5l5 I do congratulate myself I do! 

Tis unexpected, I confess : a weak 
Submissive maiden I had brought my mind 
To picture as the one that I must needs 
Arouse and boldly face her father's ire. 

520 But this intrepid woman takes me by 

Surprise. The more that I consider her 
Resolve, her strength, and attributes that form 
Her character the more impressed I am. 
She needs but little help from me, and seems 

525 Complete within herself. I must admit 
My conscience goads me not a little for 
Precipitating her into the woe 
That must result in this collision of 
Such potent wills. But bah! revenge must shun 

530 The thought of pity to attain its end." 

FIFTH SECTION. 

We find our heroine in her boudoir 
And meditating on her cruel fate. 

" I said I Avas unwell when last I met 



Line 534.] 43. 

His grace within his room, and he informed 

535 Me of his action. Was it truth? It was: 

My heart is sick, my brain is racked with deep 
Convulsive shocks that wear the life away. 
My bosom aches "with feelings shattered and 
Affections torn. My father seemed so kind 

540 And gentle tliat 1 much disliked to bring 
His wrath upon myself. What shall I do 1 
My friends, my nurse, my maid liave all agreed 
That T am fortunate indeed in such 
A splendid match. But I do not : he is, 

545 I firmly am convinced, a man whose bad 
I'. constant habits destine me to be 
Unhappy in my married life. Should I 
Decline to serve my father's will it would 
Incur his great displeasure, for he does 

550 Not brook a question to his stern commands. 
My father ! he who w'atched my tender years, 
lias reared supported and protected me : 
Must I defy his wid ? I even dread 
To ask him to retract the promise made, 

555 For fear it would arouse his latent rage. 

Ah well, I'll venture and accept the chance. 
And see if he from love my favor grants." 

The door swung open and his grace appeared. 
As Catheiine was seated with her back 

560 To Lim, she did not witness his approach. 

Nor did she hear him when he spoke, so lost 
Was she in reverie and musings sad. 

" My daughter ? AVhat, no answer to my voice i 
I sec, she's wrapped in th' oblivious cloak of thought : 

565 The intellect assumes its silent wings ; 

The present is a blank ; the mind shakes off 
The garb of flesh, and then without restraint 
It roves through all the realms of future and 
Of past. The scenes of bygone days present 

570 Themselves before the mind, and visions of 
The future rise with prophecy divine. 
Come back, sweet spirit, come from fields of pain 
Or rapture, ni^d resume thine office in 
This lovely tenement," 

He touched her on 

575 The shoulder, and she started vi'lently. 



44. [Canto II. 

" My child, what causes this dejection, pray ? " 
The Duke assumed a seat and gazed at her 
lu much surprise, and Catherine replied, 
" Why father do I look — " 

She could not speak 
580 Another word, but longed to tell him her 

Desire, but feared the consequence. " I must 
Not show my agitation when I speak ; 
It will betray my feelings : " to herself 
She murmured this. She knew she stood upon 
585 A narrow ledge ; the danger made her faint. 

The Duke became impatient : " Well ? " he asks. 
" Yes, father, I should say — " Compelled to stop. 
She so forgot her etiquette in fright 
As standing with her back before his grace, 
590 And resting at a table for support. 

"My heart is thumping in its fright/' she groaned, 
'* Like iron hoofs upon a stony road." 

'* Why lean upon a table and display 
Your back to me ? " exclaimed the angered Duke. 
595 " I do not like such acts : you speak in such 
Disjointed sentences, and breathe so hard, 
I judge you are disturbed exceedingly. 
What trouble, child ? " 

She muttered to herself, 
" Oh mighty engine of emotions, cease 
600 Your fearful throbbings ! — Father, you must know — " 
Asrain she faltered, and her voice succumbed. 
" I cannot speak, my throat is swollen so." 

Such actions strange aroused the Duke to wrath. 
So rising and approaching her he said, 
605 " But what is this I know? perhaps it is 
That you are not contented with the choice 
That I have made for you? " 

Then Catherine 
Recovered speech and cried, " No I am riot ; 
And I implore your grace to listen to 
610 My earnest words ! " 

♦' What 1 " spake the staggered Duke, 
So you would argne with m0 an4 attempt 
To change wy Tnind | '' 

*-^ foxxv grace I do beeepqlj 
yp^r pUmencjj^ I " phe l>egge4j but he retun^e^^ 



Line 614. J 45. 

*' N^o more ! withdraw unto your chamber, stay 

615 Until I send for you. Why foolish girl 

You could as well restrain the march of time 
As check the current of my purpose. Go ! " 

That mandate was the kind to be obeyed, 
Aud Catherine staggered weeping to her room 

620 Without another word. His grace in rage 
Soliloquized while pacing up and down. 

" Is this the child who has so many times 
Her strong affections vowed; is this the girl 
That has with due caresses owned her love 

625 As daughter to her sire ? How oft has she 
Her filial duty to myself observed, 
And yet she even dares to intimate 
That I have not been wise and chosen such 
As would be fitting Her Fastidiousness, 

630 Perhaps she thinks she must not marry him 

Because she hath not loved him first. Indeed! 
My will must be obeyed before her love." 
With these remarks he sternly left the room. 
In little while the nurse appears, and says 

635 Before she closes the apartment door, 

" Good night my lady, may the moonbeams kiss 
The shadows from thine eyes, and grant thee bliss. 

" Poor child I I cannot comfort her : I tried 
My very best. But hark ! what time is it ? 

640 The village clock is striking." While she stood 
And listened ten reverberations rang 
With heavy detonation, grave and grand, 
Upon the silent air. " Tis ten o'clock," 
She mused, and putting out the lights retired. 

SIXTH SECTION. 

645 Its midnight in the palace, and a light 
Appears within the game apartment which 
We saw excited by a violent scene. 

But who is this who thus disturbs the glooni 
Of darkest hour « A peasant ! so it seems ; 

(550 A peasant surely by the dress ; a girl ■ 
A girl, and pretty, yes and beautiful, 
per age about r scpr^ of years or so, 
The Tillage cloclf is strjkipg; Jistenl twelve. 



46. [Canto II. 

The stranger speaks; the voice we've heard befor( 

655 "My plaus are consummated: I will leave 
This habitation of despotic sway. 
It is the hour of midnight : silence dwells 
Within the house and over all the land. 
It will be easy to" escape if 1 

660 Am careful." 

Can it be ? its Catherine ! 
But let her speak, and tell the tale herself — 
Tis better — while she puts her candle down, 
And seats herself a moment in a chair, 

665 Observing, 

" Yes, I am resolved to go, 
And be a high-born serf no more. 
Am I a fowl to fattened be, and sold 
Unto the highest bidder, or a colt. 
To feed upon the tend'rest grass, and trained 

670 And groomed, and sold to Anjou's son? Tis not 
The office of mine intellect to breed 
Such thoughts as these. But what am I to do? 
My father wishes me to marry one 
In whom I have no faith : and yet his grace 

675 My father is; and shall I disobey 

His mandates so? To him I owe my birth. 
My rank, my wealth : but must a mendicant 
Who has received some favors from thy hand 
Be sold a slave to pay thy debt? I will 

680 No longer pose for sale before the world. 

"Why ! does he think my feelings are so dull 
And senseless as to quietly submit 
To being auctioned to a wealthy duke ? 
Do I exist without a heart of love, 

685 And is emotion dead Avithin my breast ? 
Must all my happiness depend upon 
The land and gold that flows within his grasp? 
Before I will submit to such a shame 
I'll earn subsistence by ennobling toil: 

690 I'll be a peasant, and will thrust my arms 
Into the tide of labor, that the world 
May know that I forego the pride of rank 
And wealth for honest freedom though its earned 
By labor: for I have a foot that can 

695 Support me, and an arm that can defend 



Line 696. ] 4l 

Me, and with these I scorn his dictum and 
His proud ambition, though he is my sire. 
I leave this house and never will return ; 
Nor do I take from him a single coin, 

700 And all the clothing that I wear I made 
Myself. I would not rob his store of one 
Iota of its hoard of wealth. I will 
Assert my rights and take the consequence : 
If other maidens will so abject be, 

105 That I will not is what we'll quickly see." 

With these remarks she glided through a door 
And out a hall that little use had known. 
But notwithstanding all the fires that flamed 
Within her soul — the bitter thoughts, the pangs 

710 Of deep regret, and apprehensions of 

Her future — yet her countenance was calm. 
A stalwart heart betrays no sign of grief 
Or love, though tortured by their fiery tongues. 
A mask of flint conceals the suffering soul. 

715 Upon the terrace lawn the Duke is seen; 
And thus he moralizes to himself : 

" A storm is brewing : tis a surly night. 
The wretch deserves the pity of a god 
Whose business or necessity compels 

720 Confronting such a tempest as the one 

That is about to scathe the valley uov^^" 
And then a pause ; another promenade. 

" I do not feel like sleep to-night ; the thought 
Of Catherine's behavior keeps me from 

725 My rest. If she does not obey my will 
With absolute compliance, I will send 
Her to a nunnery, until she learns 
The blessing of obedience, and sees 
The folly of opposing my commands." 

730 And while he muttered to himself a form 
Was stealing from the palace, and approached 
The spot where Normandy was standing. Then 
It noticed him, and darted in the shade 
Of some convenient bush. The Duke returned, 

735 And passed within the house. Before the door 
Had closed she hurled a parting speech at him 
Beneath her breath, that much relieved her mind. 
" The tempest is more merciful than thou I 



48. • [Canto II. 

The lightniag, that appals the face of man, 
740 Is mild compared with thee, but he who reigns 
Omnipotent above the thunder-cloud 
Will recognize the virtue of my choice>." 



CANTO IIL 

THE REVEN"GE, 

" Pm iveary of existence." 

FIRST SECTION. 

A fortnight has elapsed since Catherine 
Departed from the ducal palace. How 
The interval was spent we let the tale 
That follows tell. The time is more remote 
5 By full a week since Arnaud left the court 
Of Anjou. Now we meet again, but how 
The world has changed ! Our rendezvous 
An inn ; a simple wayside inn, but most 
Respectable. The sitting-room becomes 

10 Our place of meeting, where, without delay 
Or formal introduction we present 
Our characters, omiting also all 
Description of surrounding objects. Cast 
The eye around and scan the faces of 

15 The persons present. Yes, you are surprised — 
To recognize our hero, as he sits 
Before the fire in lounging attitude. 
The noble gentleman is seated with 
His back toward tne door, and does not hear 

20 The entrance of a servant in the dress 
Of peasant girl. Then astonishment 
Increases, for the maid is none but she 
"Who chose to drudge than wound her conseienoe in 
The chapter previous. A pause, and then 

25 She breaks his reverie, but softly to 
Herself she first soliloquises thus : 

How very still he is : he does not hear 
My footsteps on the floor. Good morning, sir; 



60. [Ganto III. 

Your breakfast -waits toui* taste." 

To which the heir 

80 Indifferently replied: 

" I do not wish 
To eat : I much prefer to fast until 
The midday hour." 

" Tis as you wish, monsieur," 
The girl replied, and left the room. 

The heir 
Was startled from his meditation, and 

35 Began to talk — addressing first himself, 

And then the chairs, the fire, and various things 
And objects for an audience, as thus : 

" I pine for home ; but that is fruitless, though. 
I'm tired of this life: I thought it would 

40 Be quite a pleasant change; — well so it is, 
In some respects, but not in others ; no ! 
As far as my surroundings are concerned 
There's ample cause to be contented, for 
I have the best that grows upon the vine, 

45 That swims the limpid stream, that eats the grass. 
Madame has tried to niake me comfortable, 
And in her efforts drains her flimsy store. 
I hunt and fish with sportive youths, and flirt 
With village beauties ; — but I still repine. 

no The cause ? Can man be happy with a ghost 
That consorts with him ? Scarcely : company 
Like that is not agreeable. I wish 
I had a sympathetic friend — a friend 
To whom I could relate my troubles, pour 

55 In his condoling ear my miseries. 

I left my father's house two weeks ago, 

And strayed about from place to place, but had 

Not wandered long before a shadow crossed 

My path. T was here, t was there, t was everywhere. 

60 I strolled upon the river bank ; a rock 
Stood sentinel upon the slope •, the sun 
Shone brightly, and my lieart was feather light. 
But soon a change was wrought: from out behind 
The hoary rock appeared au open hand, 

65 That slowly closed. I, stared in dumb surprise. 
And went to see what it could mean, but naught 
Was visible. I turned to leave, and on 



Line 68.] 51. 

The rock I saw a skull, reposing there 
In somber solitude. I took it up : 

7u Upon its forehead was the word " Revenge," 
Inscribed in ink. Within that grinning skull 
There reigned the majesty of death ; and from 
The bony cavities proceeded rays 
Of living darkness. Mute and scornful were 

75 Its naked jaws, and parched its hfeiess throat. 
" I then reflected: first, the closing hand, 
The passive skull, upon whose forehead was 
The fateful word enthroned. I trembled with 
A sudden fear, and filled with terror fled. 

8() " I left the neighborhood and visited 

Another village. Walking through a grove 
I came upon a barren sandy spot, 
And on that earthy tablet was a skull 
In characters so sharp and real that I 

85 Recoiled in dread. Upon its forehead was 
The same expression of malignant hate, 
" Revenge." I left in haste . a frightful shriek 
Was wafted through the woods — not as the cry 
Of human being in distress ; it was 

90 A wail of anguish from a fallen soul. 

How weak ! to be afraid of marks in sand. 
But that was not the last of what I've seen: 
I changed again ; located in this place. 
I had a favorite sj^ot I visited 

95 Each day : the third I thence inclined my steps. 
I passed a massive rock : my sight received 
A shock as deep and fateful as the first. 
Upon its grizzled front was marked in black, 
A skeleton, unlovely, symbol of 
lOU Our mortal consequence. What iron will 
Could face a scene like that without a chill 
Of horrified repugnance through the frame ? 
I hurried from the scene on frightened feet ; 
Again the awful shriek my senses shocked 
105 As through the avenue of trees I charged. 

" But I shall stay in spite of all these woes. 
It may be cowardly to mind such things ; 
I cannot help it if it is ; the mind 
Is not prepared for such assaults, and is 
no With ease and promptness overcome, If I 



52. [Canto III. 

Anticipated such a circumstance 
I could equip my intellect for such 
A hideous ordeal. But that is not 
The way this horrid genius manages : 
115 He plots and acts when I am off my guard. 
" Tis horrible soliloquizing thus ; 
To mumble fret and groan in solitude 
Without a soul to speak to : its the worst 
And hardest feature of my banishment. 
120 But still I know I should not murmur so — 

Those most complain who know the least of woe." 

When he had finished there appeared a man, 
An aged man, who wore a beard as white 
As winter's mantle, and whose frame was bent 
125 A little — not so very much, but still 
It signified advancing age. He leaned 
Upon a cane, but as his step was firm 
It signified a weakness of the back. 
His eyes were black, and glittered like the glcss 
130 That lends adornment to the mourning jet. 

"How is Monsieur this afternoon?" observed 
The patriarch in wheezy voice. 

"As well 
As if I were not sick," returned the heir. 

" You tell me true ! " again remarked the bore, 
135 " What might your name be sir? " 

" The same as when 
The bishop christened me," was his reply. 

" Most smgular — most odd : where is your place 
Of residence ? " 

" At home," was all that he 
Received in answer to the question put. 
140 There was a silence for a moment, then 
The ancient and vexatious man resumed: 

*• Where are you bound Monsieur ; where might 

it be ? " 
" My destination," was the brief response. 
" Oh yes ; exactly," said the baffled man, 
145 In search of information, " May I ask 

If you have travelled much? " to which the son 
Of Anjou answered, cautious and reserved, 
" I always travel when away from home," 
?' Iq^eed, you fill me with ^stonisbmeni,'- 



Line 150.] 5.1 

150 " Why that is wondrous strange ; I thought you 
full 
Of curiosity." 

" How very shrewd," 
The nusisance still persisted. *' When do you 
Depart ? " 

" In time to go." The answer waA 
As quick as was the question put. 

" You have 
155 Selected well your time of leave," replied 
The hoary old interrogation point. 

The pair were silent for a while, and then 
The aged man observed, persisting still, 
" Your occupation sir, what might it be ? " 
160 *' To be the butt of the inquisitive," 

Rejoined the heir; then murmured to himself^ 
" This curious old bore has tried to worm 
From me my pedigree and personal 
Affairs since we have been together in 
165 The house this morning; but I fear he has 
An awkard time of it. My aged sir, 
A word with you ; Interrogation of 
A wary man is very fruitless work." 

With this remark our hero left the room. 

SECOND SECTION 

170 But who is this who straightens up his back 
And elevates his head? that takes a beard 
From off his face and stands before us as 
A man of middle age ? We cannot fail 
To recognize the twitching cheek, the eye 

1*75 That cannot rest, the sly decitful lip. 

There is no doubt of it : before us stands 

The baron. Listen while he speaks : he gives 

A chuckle, and observes, 

" He does amuse 

180 Me much; I scarcely can believe it's he 

So odd were his replies. He makes me laugh 1 
This heard of mine is very Ipose, and scarce 
Fulfill^ tho object of the maker ; and 
I fear he ^iU detect me in this dress. 

|§^ W^i^i )^^^? ? ^?9? ^^^ ^^^^ *Q f^?^ ^^^^ \^^ 



o4. [Canto III. 

Who is the object of my deadly hate. 
And how I frighten him ! a harmless skull 
Is terror to his eyes ; a few dry hones 
Bree I sounds of consternation in his ears. 

190 Yet tis the same in all the roads of life: 

For we i nagine clouds are rocks, that gates 
Are walls, and harmless fantasies portend 
Impending woe. Me moralizing ! well, 
I wonder how my customary thoughts 

195 Regard their strange companions? There'll bo \t 
Of hostile factions in my brain if I 
Do not desist. Here goes my wig for there 
Is some one coming." 

He had heard a step 
Beyond the door, and re-adjusted his 

200 Disguise, when Catherine appeared. A glance 
Was all-sufficient to reveal the state 
Of matters to the guilty scoundrel, who 
With effort kept his equilibrium. 

"Astounding revelation, it is she! " 

205 The monster dropped into a seat, and turned 
His back. So agitated was he that 
He felt she must have noticed his alarm. 
" Your breakfast, t-ir, ijvites you to partake," 
Said Catherine, without observing how 

210 He acted, Arnaud, though, was anxious to 
Avoid her gaze, and hurriedly replied, 
" Such invitations never are refused 
By me," and with alacrity he sought' 
The breakfast room. A weary sigh escape4 

215 Our heroine, who meditated thus, 

While dusting furniture and cleaning rooms : 

" My work is never done : its dust and sweep, 
Its cook and wash, since I two weeks ago 
Engaged for servant's work. Tis honest toil, 

220 And should command respect. But that does not 
Relieve my aches and pains. My rearing was 
N ;t such as to enure me to this toil : 
J'or strength of liaib, and calloused hand is wha^ 
Is needed for this heavy work. The strain 

325 Upon the faculties is trying to 

A slight physique like mine, that hitherto 
Has dwelt at ease, unused to exercise 



[Line ^28. 5j. 

Except the dainty practices at court. 

As horsemansliip aud archery ; that tone 

2-iO Tlie system, whet the appetite, but do 

Not steel the body. Thea the mistress of 
This hostelry is such a crabbed dame ; 
She scolds if either does not satisfy 
Her august m: j sty — if it be good 

2:^5 Or ill. 1 do not disregard a just 
And houest ceus;ure, but endeavor to 
Improve my ways by lessons of the kiad; 
But human feeling must rebel agaim^t 
Unwarranted reproach, when striving to 

240 Perform its duty as the best it can. 

Respect decreases with prolonged rebuke. 

"Although it is but noou my linb-i are weak 
And p^ead for rest ; my wai^t must break in twain. 
What future can I hope as matters s^and ? 

245 With surly mistress, who demands of me 
Results impossible : no home to fly 
Thereto when health declines, but work and bear 
Mj ills till fortitude becomes almost 
A sia. What shall become of me when health 

250 Is wrecked, aud intellect succumbs ? Ah well, 
I'll trust ia him who promises to aid 
The AviJow and protect the fatherless — 
For lather I have none, though once I had. 
" Do I regret my disobedience? 

255 Oh no ! the thought of home and luxury 
Does not allure from the pfith that I 
Have chosen, though the route to duty be 
Witli broken stones aud thi-tles garnished : for 
I Btill adhere to my convictions and 

26) Accept the dire result. Oh here s'le comes ! " 

The dame appeared when she had finished, dressed 
In prim array. About the age of five 
And fifty, rather small and rather sharp. 
Her eyes could easily light a fire, and 

265 Her temper could have kept her pickles well. 
Her teeth had threatened frequently to break 
The contract they had made, and marry with 
The elements. Her hairs were leaving fast 
Their native heath, and hopeless prodigals 

270 Were turning. On her brow in aspect fierce 



66. [Canto III. 

Sat resolution and a cap ; and stern 
Inflexible were both her will and waist. 

" Have you not finished dusting ? you have been 
A lengthy time in doing it." So spake 
275 Her mistress, whose acomplishments we saw. 

" Madame," replied the weary Catherine, 
" I have not finished yet : have Datience with 
Me for a moment more." 

" You always have 
Excuse, the natural language of your tongue," 
280 Returned the dame, while sweeping from the room ; 
" But come and get your breakfast Catherine 1 " 

" Such people cause the wheels of time to creak," 
Remarked the girl, as sigh f-ucceeded sigh, 
And wearily she left the sitting room. 

THIRD SECTION. 

285 Tis moonlight in the forest, and the owls 
Will stare at us from leafy ambuscade. 
As through the silver light we wend our way. 
Then wheel away with many a dismal hoot. 
A step is heard ; we listen : soon a man 

290 Approaches through the bushes, and we start 
In slight surprise to recognize the face 
Of Bertrand. What has he to bring him to 
This lonely spot ; what business, pleasure, pray ? 
But let him tell his story : better far than I 

295 Could tell it for him. On a stone he sinks, 
Dejected, woe-begone and weak. Upon 
His left a mas.-ive rock its sovereign sway 
Assumes in silence stern, and none dispute 
Its rule. Its center has been rent by some 

300 Convulsion, and is parted Avide enough 

For one to pass between. The moonlight streams 
In rays of gentle beauty through the cleft. 
But Bertrand, sitting in the shade, observes 
It not as we have done, for thus he speaks : 

805 " Oh ghastly moonlight ! through the evening 
mirits 
Thy penetrating beams descend, and play 
With thoughtless fingers on the heart-strings of 
This weary life, with discord the response. 



Line 309. J 67. 

The spirit groans in deep distress, while through 

310 My breast the agonizing wail of sorrow sweeps. 
The manifold deceptions of the night 
Excite a fearful dread within my mind, 
That baffles argument and saps the s<trength. 
The moonbeams weave themselves with pliant ease 

315 In ghastly fabrications, that within 

My fevered mind instil a horror deep 
And black as cloudy midnight. Trees and rocks 
Are ghouls and phantoms in my sight, and God's 
Eternal luminaries sparkle with 

320 A cold and sullen gleam. There was a time, 
Not distant, when the song of insects on 
The moon-lit atmosphere was charming to 
My ravished ears, and most delightful thrills 
Of reverential awe possessed my mind. 

325 Tis passed away ; the harmonies that bird 
And insect breathe to their creator fall 
On inattentive ears, or what is worse, 
JProvoke a shade of melancholy gloom. 
Why have I sought this spot, why tarry thus ? 

330 A reason fathomless has brought me here. 
And chained me to the spot." 

Then at the feet 
Of Bertrand falls a shadow, cast by some 
Opaque material posted in the cleft. 

" What shadow's this ? " he cries, and turns to see 

335 A figure, standing in the gap, has caused 
The silhouette, enveloped in a cloak. 
As Bertrand's eyes behold the stranger's form 
There issues from the ghostly depths of cloak 
The single chilling word, " Revenge ! " 

" What face 

340 To face ! " exclaimed our hero, as he drew 

His sword and sprang toward the gap. Twas vain ; 
The apparition had dissolved — to all 
Appearances. 

" Not here ! " he cried, and ran 
Around in front. '* Nor here ! Within my grasp, 

345 Yet gone." 

He sheathed his sword, and sank upon 
The stone, soliloquizing thus : 

" It was 



68 [Cakto III. 

A mortal's voice I heard ; but mortals can't 
Appear and disappear without a trace, 
Their composition is too tangible 

^:>0 " What can this daik illusion mean ? "Why do 

I fear ? Can mortals cope with spirits ? can 
This sword the limbs of phantoms cleave ? 
What courasfe can assail the jjhostly shape 
That chills the ardent fluid of the vdus. 

;.*55 Where can I go to shun this misery ? 

My footsteps haunted by this dreadful ghost! 
It gir.ls me 'round about, it wrings my soul ; 
It robs me of my manhood, plucks from off 
My brow the fresliuess and the glory of 

36U My youth. My startled faculties have lost 
Their courage, and alarmed hold session in 
Their abject fear within my raging brain, 

" It seems as th mgh my mind, unbalanced, reels 
And plunges in a vortex, horrible 

365 As Hell's wide pulphurous throat. Why do I thus 
Resign myself to meditations, black 
With horror as a den of vampires. These 
My wayward thoughts go howling through 
A pathless void, and shriek among the crevices 

'MO Of my distracted soul. The horrors of 
Eternal night engulf my spirit and 
Confound my seuse. Do I behold the moon 
Turn black, or is my vision tarnished? Do 
I see the crown (f Heaven spht as with 

Ml 5 A mighty throe of nature, or my skull 
Refuse to hold my erazv brain, and part 
From front to year. I'm powerless to move ; 
My muscles fail to do their duty when 
I biJ them act, and leave me to my fate." 

380 While thus liis intellect was boiling like 

An angry crater, through the shades there came 
A terrifying shriek, that froze his blood. 

" Ye spectred ghosts and goblins of the night, 
Your spell remove and let me go from hence ! 

385 Stark madness grins with shapeless countenance, 
And chatters in my ears till reason quakes. 
And threatens to succumb. Her maddening laugh 
Transforms my blood to ice. Earth speaks to Hell, 
And Hell repeats the dreadful tale of woe, 



Line 390. j 59, 

390 Along the corridors of fate there rinsfs 

The c!ariou peal of doom, that sounds the note 
Of warning to this fainting sj irit. Oh 
I'm going mad, I'm going raving mad ! " 
The persecuted man his temples c:asped, 

895 And sank unto the earth ; and as he lay, 
A swooning wreck, an open hand appeared 
Behind the stolid rock, its sha'ow fell 
Upon the prostrate form, its fingers closed 
In slow and savage, fierce prophetic clasp. 

FOURTH SECTION- 

400 Our thoughts are next directed to the inn. 
And in the family room, to find Madame 
Is there before us. Now the crispy dame 
Is lost in thought, and meditates awhile. 
" I have endeavored to elicit fi-om 

405 This singular young w^oman whom I have 
In my employ, her history, and some 
Particulars of her prcceeding life. 
I had discovered that the work was more 
Than I could do alone. Assistance I 

410 INIust have: but this is harvest time, and maids 
Are scarce. So who should come but Catherine. 
She Yv^ould not tell her history, but begged 
For work : so as I was in need of help, 
I then and there engaged her services ; — 

'! 1 ." But fir a little while : for she is weak, 

Thou';h willing : I must make the last excuse 
The first. She Avill acquire by constant toil 
The strength to bear her burdens, and her limbs, 
Beconie of more end ring fabric, will 

420 Be capable of greater deeds than now. 

" And yet the fact that puzzles me is just 
Those tiny feet and hands of hers, that could 
Not crush a fly. It is a mystery ! 
She must have been brought up io affluence. 

425 Perhaps she is an exile from her home, 

Disgraced and shamed, and by her family cast 
Away. If so she must begone : — and soon ; 
I'll have no doubtful characters within 
My house. I told her that she must reveal 



60. [Canto lit. 

430 The circumstances of her life, or go." 

When she had ceased, Lord Bertrand burst within 
The room. His hair was in disorder, and 
His clothing indicated by its looks 
That toilet was a thing of little thought 

435 The present morning. With a gasp he speaks : 

" The air is jfilled with spectres, and the ground 
Gives birth to ghostly shapes! " 

With this he passed 
The door, and in the garden. Quite alarmed, 
The dame exclaimed, 

" Poor gentleman ! he is 

440 Disturbed with foolish thoughts. I wonder what 
Can be the trouble though ? " 

"With that she left 
The room. A little while and Catherine 
Appeared, to dust as usual. While engaged, 
Our much distracted hero entered, and without 

445 Observing Catherine he dropped upon 

A chair, and thus remarked but half aloud : 
" Last evening I beheld a ghost — or was 
Insane. I had a paroxysm, fell 
Upon the ground ; awoke, and with confused 

450 Intelligence I wandered to my room. 

Then as lay in bed, my eyes were closed 
In sleep ; I heard a rattle as of bones 
And chains. I started up and gazed around : 
Within the window of my room there stared 

455 A skull, which glowed as though twere dipped 
In Hell's sulphuric liquid, and a groan 
Proceeded from its arid throat, that caused 
My hair to rear and skin to creep in fright." 
" How wild he is," our Catherine remarked, 

460 While she proceeded with her dusting, all 
Oblivious to Bertrand, who had set 

With back to her : " His actions prove his i 1 

Is agitated by unusual cause. 

His violent deportment makes me think 

466 A shock severe has been adminstered to 
His equanimity. He is oppressed 
With thoughts that need no company." 

With this 
She passed in silence from the room, and as 



Like 469. ] 61. 

The door was closed, Madame appeared and said, 
470 " I cannot understand where Catherine 

Has gone, for I have searched the house for her." 
With this she turned to go ; and Bertrand rose 
And in a desperate voice remarked aloud, 
" I doubt my manhood when I tremble thus, 
475 And think my mind is going to decay." 

Such language startled the Madame who to 
Her frantic guest observed, 

" Monsieur, you seem 
To be disturbed to-day. Your aspect is 
So agitated that I fancy you 
480 Have had some trouble with opposing ills." 

" My good Madame," said Bertrand, '* has this 
place 
Been haunted, is it haunted now, or are 
The elements ia dark conspiracy 
With my imagination to destroy 
485 My reason ? " 

You alarm me sir ! " exclaimed 
The frightened dame at this, " Be calm ! " 

" Be calm ! " 
He cried. " Why not request me not to breathe? 
I could refrain from inspiration full 
As eas'ly as to be composed just now. 
490 Who can confront a goblin placidly, 

Or with serene demeanor feel the touch 
Of spectred hands in all their clammy chill. 
1 must be mad, or something worse. My mind's 
Diseased, and genders baleful thoughts that shock 
496 The rational sense." 

With these remarks he dropped 
Upon a chair, and then relapsed in thought. 
" I think I'll go ; I do not care to court 
The company of lunatics." 

With that 
She glided from the room, and Bertrand thus 
500 Reflected deep: 

" Until last evening fear 
Had been a myth to me. Tis strange what fear 
Will do ! What is this strange phenomenon ? 
Alarm and trepidation is not fear. 
I've faced a mountain bear on dangerous ledge, 



6'A. [ Canto 111. 

505 And quaked, though not with fear, and challenged 
his 
Attack witli steady gaze : my strength and skill 
Had won my confidence. Though frightened at 
His fierce deportment, yet no piercing pang 
Of mortal anguish seized my soul. I've fought 

510 With torrents deep and wide, with sturdy limbs 
Assailed the foaming volume, been alarmed 
At strength of current and the width of stream, 
Lest I should drown — but fear was still unknown. 
Convulsion of the soul is fear, a blow 

51 5 Unto the miad, that staggers reason, cheeks 

Discretion, weakens thought, and makes a man 
Or woman worse than child. It is the dread 
Anticipation of intangible 
And imperceptible disaster, that 

520 Avoids engagement and descends unseen. 

" A case of mere dismay will cause a man 
To tremble, woman scream : but if the hair 
Is stiff, the eye is set, and motionless 
The frame — tis tiien the mind is frozen, and 

525 The soul is palsied by the spasm's i^trokc. 
This fear I had in aggravated form : 
My craven soul was girdled with a chill, 
Congealing blood and thought. I summoned all 
My fortitude to check my cowardice 

530 Without avail, so awful was the shock." 

"As he was meditating in this strain, the door 
Was opened, Arnaud entered, bowed with age, 
As heretofore he had disguised himself. 
A smile of secret satisfaction burned 

535 Upon his wicked visage as he thought, 
" Poor lunatic ! I pity him ; but tis 
The pity of a butcher that .1 feel." 
To Bertrand then he spoke in voice disguised, 
" And how are you this morning, sweet Monsieur? " 

540 " I thought I was a child," Lord Bertrand mused, 
But now he proves it by acosting me 
As sweet." Then turning to the man, remai'ked, 
" My venerated sir, you would, perchance. 
Be more correct in your address if you 

545 Would term me anything but sweet, for I 
On this occasion feel intensely sour." 



Line 547. J 63. 

With this he rose, and slowly left the room. 

" Revenge thine agency is powerful! " 
Remarked the scbemer to himself in glee. 
550 As he is passing out our Catherine 

Returns. She stands in hopeless attitude, 
And droops upon her stem, a fading flower, 

" I've swept the hall and washed the dishes, put 
The sleeping rooms in order, dusted all 
555 The rooms : — Avhy did I come in here ? it's slipped 
My mind. I cannot think what brought me here." 

The door was opened and Madame appeared. 
Now what have you come hither for," inquired 
The wrathful hostess of the inn. 

" ^ ^^ 
560 Not know," replied the girl, her dizzy brain 

Unable to perform its duties right ; 

" I really am confused." 

" Of course," the dame 

Returned with sneering tone, " The gentleman ! " 

Then as a wounded look appeared upon 

565 The face of Catherine, she said in voice 
That had a steely ring, " But listen girl, 
I took you out of charity, and gave 
You some employment, so that you could earn 
A living ; but I now expect that you 

570 Shall tell me of your history, and how 

It is your feet and hands are not like those 
Of other servant maids. I do not like 
This mystery ; it's dangerous to my house. 
And to my safety thus to harbor one 

575 Wlio has not proved her honesty. You may 
Perhaps be fugitive from law, or in 
A cloud of disrepute be banished from 
Your home. Come, speak! or you must leave my 
house." 
Our heroine replied with dropping tears, 

580 " Good mistress, spare me I implore ! I can't 
Relate the circumstances that have brought 
Me here ; but I can bare my conscience to 
The blaze of noon, and challenge all reproach." 
To which Madame replied, " You must divulge 

585 Your secret or begone." 

But Catherine 



«4. [Canto III. 

Implored again : " Oh trust me, trust my youth, 

Madame, and do not cast me out to face 

A Uving death ; for all have cast me off 

As you would when I sought by upright ways 

590 To earn a livelihood and begged for work," 

" I compliment their judgement and their sense, " 
Returned the austere dame, " Now will you state 
What I have asked you to ? " 

The girl replied 
In deep despair, " I cannot, cannot, tell 1 " 

595 ** Then you must go, " returned Madame, and 
with 
A stony look upon her visage left 
The room. The blow was great, and keenly felt : 
The crushed and fainting out-cast sank upon 
A seat, and hid her face in deep distress. 

FIFTH SECTION. 

600 The grand and solemn mysteries of life 
And death, of providence and fate are now 
To pass before us, flash upon our gaze 
Their startling scenes, and vanish, but to leave 
Us lost in wonder, why they came and why 

605 They go. Yet possibly we can conceive 
A motive of sublime importance wrought 
By Him who rules the destinies of men ; 
Intended, not with fierce satanic glee 
To wreck the joys of life, but with an aim 

610 Divine and just, infallible, and high 

Above the cramped conception of the mind. 
But let us not too deeply probe, for as 
The rash explorer of a cavern, vast 
And gloomy, loses in his zeal th« "w^ay, 

615 So may we overzealously exceed 

The bounds of human understanding and 
Of reverence, and be a mark of scorn 
And ridicule in Heaven. 

Is it not 
A circumstance of grave surprise to see 

620 A man of Bertrand's strength of mind succumb 
To sights and noises such as he had met ? 
And yet the texture of the human miud 



Line 623. J 65. 

Is such that inconsistencies should not excite 
Surprise : for weak is he who fears a blow, 

625 Possessing strength to meet the shock. 

Less weak who fears when mortal strength is vain. 
But least deserving of our scorn the one 
Who shrinks from horrors hid from sight, and shocks 
Of shapeless doom ; his fierce antagonist 

630 Unknown, invisible, relentless, cruel. 
Encompassed by a multitude of grim 
Resistless foes, whose schemes he cannot grasp ; 
Jiut worst of all to be possessed with dread 
Of something which the mind can feel but not 

635 Conceive — such victim must our sympathy 

Receive, but not contempt. Then sympathize 
With Bertrand, strong, but mortal like ourselves, 
For in an age of superstition he 
"Was born ; when witches were tormented, burned, 

640 And evil spirits were believed and feared. 

Remember groundless fears that all have had. 
And then with reason pity his despair. 

Then Catherine deserves compassion too : 
Her force of will, her talents no avail. 

645 She must by harsh experience be taught 
That there are times when energy is void 
And intellect is fruitless; as the wrecked 
And thirsty mariner is helpless, or 
The mighty locomotive's zeal, that strives 

650 In vain upon the slippery track. 

Now let 
Us turn our minds to scenes that challenge our 
Attention. It is on a river bluff 
Adjoining the locality where last 
We saw the characters that sway the plot 

655 Our narrative developes. First we see 

That demon, Arnaud, in disguise. He wears 
The beard and clothing of an aged man 
As when we saw him last, and as he strolls 
Along the bluff we listen to his voice 

660 As thus he mutters softly to himself: 

" How clever I must be to shock him so. 
Tis singular how some believe in ghosts 
And phantoms — yes, its very odd indeed ! 
I^ow Bertrand thinks a ghost is hauntiug him, 



66. [Canto III. 

665 And seeking his destruction ; — well, he's right ; 
He never had opinion more correct ; 
For I will hound bim till my threat's fulfilled 1 
I follow him and groan with lusty luns^s, 
(Oh I can groan, I'm skillful in the art) 

670 And in my pockets carry bones and chains, 
That when in occupation would alarm 
Tha lifeless rocks with sounds of death and woe. 
I'll drive him mad, or torture him until 
He kills himself. Revenge ! thou sweetest of 

675 Confectioneries from the vat of Hell, 

I taste thee with a relish ! But I'll make 
The object of my ' mortal spite ' to save 
Me trouble of the wiping of my sword." 
But suddenly he starts and springs behmd 

680 A friendly tree, exclaiming under breath, 

" He did not see me or he would have stopped." 
And Bertrand did not see : with downcast air 
He walked along the bluff, observing as 
He sadly cast himself upon the ground, 

685 Indifference in his voice, and careless phrase, 
" I'm weary of existence ; life is but 
A cauldron of distress, where good and bad 
Are boiled alike. I'm in the humor for 
Some desp'rate deed, so reckless do I feel, 

690 With all this horror persecuting me. 
The lash is wielded with a vigor so 
Intense I cannot bear it." 

Arnaud, just 
At this, proclaimed his presence by a groan, 
And vigorous exercise of bones and chains. 

695 A deathly horror gripped the turbid soul 

Of Bertrand. Springing to his feet he cried 
In terror and despair, 

" Oil there it is 
Again in all its dismal wail of woe. 
Tis inaking life so unsupportable 

'100 I will endure no more! " 

Then rushing to 
The brink, without another word he cast 
Himself from off the edge. As down he plunged 
The joyful Arnaud tore his beard and wig 
From face and head, and shouted as 



Line 655. j «Y. 

705 He waved them in the au% 

** Revenge ! " 

His breath 

Had scarcely cooled when he beheld a form 
Approach the brink with rapid strides, a rod 
Or so above the spot where Bertrand had 
Precipitated soul and body. Trees 

710 And heavy bushes had prevented sight 

On either side, and both were too absorbed 
To notice one another, Arnaud sprang 
Toward her, and exclaimed, 

" Desist 1 " 

To late; 

7l5 For Catherine had dissappearcd, had thrown 
Herself from off the river bluff. Then stood 
The guilty wretch a moment mute: his soul 
Was paralyzed with sudden fear ; his bones 
Were frozen to the marrow by a blast 

720 As though from polar seas. He staggered back, 
He stumbled, and he fell — a liopeless wreck; 
And as t-upported by his arm he turned 
His face to Heaven and clutched his hair, 
His conscience stricken face was terrible 

725 To witness, and there issued from bis throat 
A deathly moan — 

*' Oh. horrors, she is gone I " 



CANTO IV 

THE DECLARATION. 
"And 1 am Catherine of Normandy.^^ 

FIRST SECTION. 

N"ow let us turn fi-om scenes of -woe to more 
Ao:reeable pursuits, aud cliauge the air 
Of horror for an atmosphere of peace. 
But do not be surprised if faced by .'■trange 
5 Events ; but g:reet them as the incidents 
Of daily life should be — without 
Astoni-nraent, however marvellous 
May be the circumstance. 

The scene that next 
Engages our attention is the room 

10 That we have seen before within the inn, 
And there we see our Catherine, at rest 
Within an easy chair. Her face is wora 
With deep anxiety, and pale as death ; 
But still there clings a personality, 

15 A sweetness of expression in the sad 
Dejected eyes, a beauty in the face 
That scorns description; and a dignity 
So charming, so attractive, that we feel 
Without a knowledge of herself that we 

20 Are standing in the presence of a queen 
Of proud hereditary line. Her hands 
Are white and thin, but still we feel 
That high authority is resident 
Among those waxen fingers, and a wave 

25 From them would bring a monarch to her feet. 
Her knitting-work affords amusement in 
Her solitude ; a mantle thrown across 



^0. [Canto IV. 

Her knees declares the invalid, her hair 

Unbound, is scattered in bewitching state 

Of careless harmony, that captivates 
So The eye, while through the open window streams 

The sunlight and the aromatic air. 

While we are speculating on her train 

Of thought, the door is opened and Madame 

Appears. Our heroine arouses from 
35 Her reverie to smile her welcome, as 

Madame observes with int'i'est in her voice : 
" How pleased I am to pee you better child ; 

And do you feel as well as you appear ? " 

" I do Madame ; and thank your deep concern 
40 And kind attention," was the invalid's 

Reply with feeling. 

" Oh attribute not 

To me the praise of your recovery," 

Protested the Madame with energy, 

" Monsieur Protentius is the one to thank : 
45 Twas he who saved your life, and should receive 

The credit: he should have your grateful thanks." 
" And so he shall," replied our heroine, 

But w^here is he to thank? " 

" You eoon shall meet 

Him," was the answer, " He is coming in 
50 To see you shortly." 

" I am very glad," 

The invalid responded, with a sigh 

That emanated from her tired breast, 

" He shall receive my thanks: but dear Madame, 

I beg of you repeat the narrative 
55 Of my recovery, two daj's ago ; 

For I can scarce remember what you told 

Me yesterday, so weary was my mind.'' 
The hostess of the hostelry replied 

To this entreaty with the narrative. 
60 " The first we knew a cry of help was raised ; 

Monsieur Protentius struggled in the stream 

To save your life — how noble he must be 1 

A boat was soon dispatched, and you were foimd 

Unconscious while Mont-ieur Protentius held 
65 Your iiead above the water." 

" And he risked 



LilfE 66. J Tl. 

His life for me ? " broke ia our heroine 

With warmth, at hearing that : " How can I thank 

Him for his self-forgetfulness — to save 

My life ! " 

" My child ? " inquired the troubled dame, 

70 " Have you forgiven me the wrong 1 did 
To you in casting you away ? " 

Ah poor 
Madame ! your life has been a struggle with 
The harshest forms of poverty that scathe 
The cheeks of mortals. We must pity you : 

15 A widow, childless ; nothing to arouse 
The tender sympathies, or stir the heart 
To sweet emotions. Life a synonym 
For toil, and all your efforts spent to check 
The cold, relentless avalanche of want. 

80 Then can we wonder, should we censure, if 
The features pinch and vision sharpen, if 
The voice acquires a ring of avarice ? 
Your constant intercourse with strangers kills 
The deep affections in the soul, forbids 

85 The opportunities for making friends. 

Prevents the heart from growing warm. To you 

Existence is a canon bleak and dark, 

Through which the northern tempests sweep, and 

freeze 
Affection, sympathy, and noble thoughts. 

90 To you the grave U like the earthquake's jaws, 
That open, swallow, close — and life is done ; 
A hideous ordeal, the end of all. 

But now we see the con?cience, hard, congealed. 
Before the warm affection melt to tears. 

95 And Catherine observes all this : she sees 
The nature touched ; she feels the reason of 
The former cause, forgives the harshness, lays 
Her hand upon the fading head that bends 
In sorrow, and in soothing tones declares : 
100 " My dear Madame, it is a trifle ; do 
Not speak about it further please." 

" But I 
Was harsh, and so unreasonable ! It was 
A shame for me to censure so, and drive 
You out. I almost fainted with remorse 



•72. [Canto IY. 

105 As soon as I was told that you had tried 
To drown yourself. It was no wonder, for 
I must have made your life unbearable 
With scold and finding fault: — and then to cast 
You off! " 

The conscience stricken dame was now 
110 In tears. 

" N'ow let us be more cheerful, dear 
Madame," our Catherine remarked, " You say 
He ordered you to take the greatest care 
Of me?" 

" The very words," Madame replied. 
" How very kind ! Oh how I wish to thank 
115 Him for his great solicitude and care." 

" You soon will have the opportunity," 
Assured Madame ; but Catherme was lost 
In thought, and scarcely heard her words, but soon 
She said, in tone of voice that rung with strength, 
'' But I will not receive his favors thus, 
120 He shall be reimbursed for any loss." 

It was her own proud spirit speaking througli 
Her voice : the mighty soul that had been crushed 
Beneath the giant's heel was gathering strength 
To grapple fate, its most malignant foe. 

SECOND SECTION. 

125 Again the door is opened, and the form 

Of Bertrand enters. Then Madame arises, drops 
A court'sy, looks at Catherine and says: 

" Ah ! you have come, Monsieur Protentius: please 
Be seated by the patient, and excuse 

130 Me for awhile: my duties call for me." 
Then to herself she added as she left 
The room, but not without a glance behind, 
" I'll surely neutralize their feelings if 
I stay: a lovely pair they make." Of course 

135 The startling fact of being left alone, 
The lack of ceremony was a source 
Of awkward hesitancy on the part 
Of both ; but as they understood themselves, 
Their social education placed them at 

140 Their ease before a dojjen words had beeii 



'73. [Line 141. 

Exchanged. 

" 1 -wish to be acquainted with 
You Catherine. I'm pleased to pee you so 
Much better than I saw you yesterday." 
The heir of Anjou spoke in kindly voice, 

145 And Catlierine replied with graceful speech : 
" This honor I am sure I don't deserve." 
" The state of our relations differs much 
From heretofore," observed the noble youth, 
In pleasant voice, " As then I only knew 

150 You in capacity of servant maid. 
The barrier of etiquette removed 
We meet on equal terms. Consider that 
Until you have recovered health and strength 
You are my guest within this hostelry." 

155 Then Catherine with dignity replied : 

" Monsieur Protentius, you would surfeit me 
"With grace. Your generosity can not be termed. 
What act of kindness have 1 rendered you 
That thus you seek to load me with rewards ? 

160 You saved my life : — nay more, you checked the act 
Of violence that is the greatest crime 
Before the face of God, a suicide. 
But not contented with the noble deed 
You press upon me favors, when you know 

165 Monsieur that I can not refuse. You take 
Advantage of my weakness, gentle sir. 
If you had given me a paltry gift 
I could return you thanks with easy tongue ; 
But when munificence is thus bestowed 

no The mind is powerless to frame its thanks, 
And give the vocal impulse to the tongue, 
The viaduct of thought." 

At these remarks 
The eye of Bertrand kindled with a strange 
Expression, which betrayed his feelings, but 

175 His countenance remained the same. To her 
Decided speech, which much surprised the heir, 
Because above her station, he replied^ 
In language as refined : 

" I recognize 
Your feelings Catherine, and would request 

180 That you refrain from mentioning the fact 



74. [Canto IV, 

Again. When one bestows a favor thanks 
Are due of course, but sterling gratitude 
Is seldom s^iguified by words alone, 
But by the manifold expressions of 
185 The lively sentiment upon the face. 
In this unconscious manner you reveal 
The strength of ynur emotions, which to me 
Is all-sufficiency of gratitude. 
So do not speak about the circumstance 
190 Again." 

To which our heroine replied ; 
" Tis as you wish : your word to me 
Must be my cardinal observance now." 
But Bertrand hastily replied to this ; 
" Oh I beseech you not to bind yourself 
195 To deem my wishes mandates, and submit 
To arbitrary whims that I may have." 

" Again consider your requests decrees," 
She answered ; but again he spoke with warmth, 
" But you must place a boundary to this 
200 Entire resignation : now assume 

That I should wish you to be partner in 
Some crime, to murder, rob, or to commit 
A secret wrong, how would you then reply ? " 
With ringing voice the invalid returned, 
205 That monitor, my conscience, tells me no ! " 
Again the heir of Anjou questioned her : 
' ' But I have done you favors, saved your life : 
Suppose that I desire that you should tell 
A falsehood, that you may exonerate 
210 Me of an accusation, or to break 

The Sabbath that I might increase my gain ? " 

" It would not be ingratitude at all 
If I refused," our Catherine returned 
With earnestness, " No deed of kindness should 
215 Saduce a spotless soul's integrity. 

The human being that repays a mean 
Beneficiary by consenting to 
An act of dark iniquity, performs 
A sacrifice contemptible and vile, 
220 And helps the villain to his den in Hell 
By aiding t) corrupt his soul the more." 

While speaking color clothed her face, and lent 



Line 223. ] 16. 

A crimson beauty to the pallid cheek. 
Her dignity became intensified, 

225 While from her eye there sprang a fire that met 
The negative in Bertrand's glance, and both 
Were conscions of a passion never felt 
Before — the primal knitting of a pair 
Of noble hearts. Her speech was answered thus: 

230 *' I heartily endorse your sentiments : 
They harmonize with my convictions, stir 
The moral forces to the core, and charge 
The stagnant qualities with zeal. Tis truth : 
For listened to, the conscience tells the wrong, 

235 And regulates the heart and soul of man." 

Then turning from the line of thought he said, 
" Now tell me Catheriue the story of 
Your contemplated suicide. It would 
Be interesting to extreme, I'm sure." 

240 " At this the crim-on tide forsook her cheek, 
A shade of sadness took its place ; but how 
Entrancing to the eye of Bertrand, who 
Observed the slightest change. She turned and 

gazed 
Upon the landscape through the windows, then 

245 In language grave and sorrowful began : 
" A strange experience indeed I've had : 
I try to think of how I did the act : 
Madame had told me to begone, and I 
Was cast upon the world again. Despair . 

250 Had conquered me, and in its grip I knew 
Not what I did. My faith was gone, and I 
Was weak indeed. Along the road 1 passed, 
No kindly face accosted me, but all 
Were too absorbed by other things to care 

255 To speak to me. I staggered from the path 
A fragment of the human race, detached; 
Without an aim or destination, lost, 
Unsearched-for, and without a friend save God, 
I heard the sound of water, and recalled 

§60 To mind the river, rocky banked and swift, 
The thought of suicide engaged my mind ; 
I eould not past it off; I yielded, sought 
The river bluff, and then without a wor4 
I threw myself from off the precipice, 



16. [Canto IV. 

265 Yes I, who but a few short weeks ago 

Had said, with stalwart ppeech and flashing eye, 
* The prince of cowards is the suicide, 
And I will not be one.' Its human though : 
Tis not the lusty blows that break our strength, 

270 But subtile tappings that subdue at length. 

" The moment that [ sprang I heard a voice 
Exclaim ' Desist ! ' It was too late ; I fell. 
The freshets of the Spring had swelled the stream, 
And recent rains had magnified its size : 

275 The rocks were covered, and instead of hard 
Kelentless spines of rocky death, I struck 
The yielding water. Fortunate for me 
I fell aright, or else the shock perchance 
Had proved a mortal blow. I sank, I rose. 

280 Bewildered by the stunning fall I lay 

Upon the water weak and limp. I felt 
A movement near, a hand sustained my head, 
The firmament turned black — I knew no more. 
I 'woke to find Madame in great distress. 

285 I lay upon my bed ; some little time 
Was nescessary to recover sense. 
And many hours had passed before my brain 
Consented to renew its duties in 
My weary head. So here I am again." 

290 She ceased the painful narrative, and sank 
Upon tbe cushions of her chair. But for 
A moment only was she weak ; the strong 
Recov'ring will declared itself, and rose 
In all its majesty from deep despair, 

295 Then Bertrand spoke reflectively when she 

Had ceased, as though his mind was lost among 
The mystic grottos of the human soul. 
" Tis singular how intricate the acts 
Of mortals are. The nature manifests 

300 Itself by curious behaviors, wild 
And inexplicable. Irrational 
In moods, it lacks in motives for dislikes 
And likes. At certain periods consumed 
"With will and charged with zeal, defying fate 

305 And force ; at others feeble and devoid 
Of resolution, lacking fortitude, 
Jadiflferent of responsibility^ 



Line 308.1 11. 

To God, itself, and to its fellow men." 

" How strange," said Catherine, " that I should be 
310 So weak, when I had vowed to face the world 

And all its woe." 

Then Bert rand answered thus ; 

" But did not great Elijah do the same ? 

He looked the heathen nation in the face. 

Nor felt a tremor of dismay, although 
315 A nod from Ahab would have sentenced him 

To instant death. But when the day had passed, 

A threat from Jezebel alarmed his soul, 

For then he prayed for death. Who ever knew 

A nature that possessed such stamina 
320 Of spirit as to keep the resolution firm 

In spite of all distressing incidents. 

While mighty natures crave competitors 

They cannot always struggle: weakness comes 

When strength is needed most ; the frailest point 
325 Will be assaulted by the enemy, 

And when we boast of vigor and control 

Our fall is near." 

As lie concluded the 

Madame appeared. 

" Now Catherine, T fear • 

You need to rest. Monsieur, will you excuse 
330 The invalid; she must be careful, not 

To so indulge herself in company 

As to imperil her recovery." 

" Oh pray do not consider me," returned 

The heir, but do what you esteem to be 
335 The proper thing." Then turned to Catherine, 

" I very much regret that you must go : 

I seldom have enjoyed a colloquy 

That gave me keener pleasure." 

" Thanks Monsieur," 

Returned the girl, and with a courtly bow 
340 She rose, and leaning on Madame withdrew. 

THIRD SECTION. 

When they had gone and Bertrand was alone, 
He paced the floor and meditated thus : 
■* Js that a peasant girl f Qh np shes ;^ot| 



'78. [Canto IV. 

Such brilliant speech auJ polished etiquette 

845 "Were not developed in an humble home. 
Those dainty hands are not accustomed to 
The deeds of labor, nor those features east 
Within the mould of poverty. Such ease, 
And elegance of conduct charmed my eyes, 

850 Especially because it was abrupt 

And unexpected. I had first resolved 
To ask the reason of it all, but feared 
Repulse : her dignified behavior chilled 
Inquisitive desire ; so I curbed 

35o My curiosity„ But still there is 

A mystery connected with this girl 
Which puzzles me so much, that I will strive 
With all my power to elucidate." 
Then turning he retired to his room. 

360 The sun had set • the shadows played about 
The chamber with a bolder glee. He sank 
Upon a chair, and leaning back, his hands 
Eehind his head, he gaz d with dreamy eyes 
Upon the vanishing disj)lay of light. 

365 His nature was not sentimental, but 
He felt a lonesome feeling creep upon 
His soul — a yearning, powerful as will, 
, Intangible as fate. At first he knew 

Not what it was, and wondered why his heart 

3*70 Beat slower and his breast grew cold. As though 
Emerging from a nnst, the reason dawned 
Upon his mind in slow degrees. The room 
Grew darker as he sat, and from the gloom 
And from the fiijure motionless arose 

3*75 A soft and plaintive ballad, as he s-ang 
In tone subdued aiid voice of gentle pitch, 

THE SONG, 

1 *' Oh I'm lonely, I'm lonely ; I long for caress 
From a nature that's loving, whose lips I can press ; 
Wh')se reciprocal t<-nderne8s answers to miqe 

380 With a sweetness of impulse so nearly divine. 

2 " There's a void in my heart that id yearning 

for love, 
From a soul whose affections can lift me above, 
1» a stratum delightful, awa.y from th^ ooige 



Line 384. J 1^. 

And fati<rues cf a life, for a season of joys. 
385 3 " Oh I'm lonely' I'm lonely ; I long to embrace 
Such a creature my fancy conceives, full of grace 
And attractions, with nobler jnd loftier mind 
Than is granted to most of the mortals I find. 

4 " To the world I am cold, and affection would 

seem 
390 To their wondering eyes but a craze and a dream ; 
I am often persuaded xnjs* If tht y are right. 
Till the match is applied — and the candle is light. 

5 "There are times when a sigh will refuse to be 

quelled, 
Though in check by the spirit a period held ; 
395 It will break the proud fetters and tell to the heart 
That it longs for the joy that a kiss can impart 

6 " Ah my spirit is haughty, but cannot control 
The rich waves of emotion that rush through my 

soul : 
Though I strive in my pride to restrain the quick 
breath — 
400 Yet the heart is the master, though love should 
be death, 

7 " Oh I'm lonely I m lonely ; no arms to entwine 
In a circle my neck, or a head to recline 

On a shoulder that longs to be pressed by a 

wreath 
Of soft ringlets, with flashes of rapture beneath, 
405 8 " Though the intellect mocks at the mention of 
love, 
And esteems euch a thing only fit for a dove, 
Yet affection is stronger, and hurls from its path 
Opposition and fate, in the might of its wrath, 

9 "In the silence of solitude trembles a groan, 
'10 And I start to discover the truant my own: 

Such a wail of despondency ! can it then be 
That I long for affection in such a degree ? 

10 " Ah this solitude casts on my spirits a gloom. 
That I often repulse as a shadow of doom; 

415 So I wrap up my heart in its lonely restraint, 

And will try to live on without word of complaint." 

Now we must let an interval occur 
Of half a week, and meet our hero as 



80. [Canto tV. 

He leaves his lady, that we may become 
420 Aware of how that interval was spent. 

" How charming ia this maiden, full of life 
And frolic, yet how dignified withal. 
Her manner, sweet and gentle, captivates 
A mind polite ; while in her bearing there 
425 Exists a principle, austere but kind, 

That charms a true and wholesome instinct, yet 
Repulses all familiar conduct. Such 
Discovery three days have made, since fiist 
I recognized her great accomplishments 
430 Which have convinced me that this maiden was 
Not born beneath a roof of thatch." 

Another day has passed : in order to 
Be cognizant of what the lady thinks, 
It will be necessary to become 

435 A spy ; so let us hide among the leaves 
Of this delicious rose upon her breast, 
That guards the gate of love, and listen as 
She murmurs sweet confession to herself. 
" How very kind Madame has been to me : 

440 She really tries to make amends for her 
Extreme unkindness unto me before. 
And then Monsieur Protentius ! how he loves 
To ta.k, and sit, and walk with me. He says 
He knows no other pleasure. Can it be 

445 Unhappy man ! I wish I could relieve 
A portion of his troubles. Anything 
That I could do I gladly would devote 
To cheering his despondency. How good 
He ia ; how circumspect in conduct, strong 

•150 In carriage ; in behavior how superb ; 

And what refined deportment. Certainly 
A choicer specimen of man can not 
Be found. I wonder why he does not come ? 
"What am I thinking of! am I in love? 

455 A child of Normandy enraptured with 

A perfect stranger! No, it must not be. 
But nonsense ! haughtiness is out of place 
At present. I am not the heiress of 
The Duke of Normandy, a peer of France 

460 And wealthy, but a particle of dust. 



Line 461. j Sl. 

Suspended in the buuudiess sunlight of 
The universe of God ; without a home, 
A fortune, oi* protector from attacks 
Of adversaries that encompass me. 

465 " But maidens must not thus confess their love. 
Still, why ? It is absurd for me to fear 
To make cDufessiou to my secret mind. 
The intellect indeed must he without 
Responsibility if it can not 

470 Preserve the tender secrets of the heart. 

I must acknowledge that this handsome, youn^:. 
And talented Monsieur has won my heart. 
For many days he has been constantly 
Within my sight, and I assure myself 

475 With all conceit that he doth love me much." 

Now she is interupted by Madame, 

Who enters and cuts short the reverie. 

Another day has passed, and then we meet 
Our hero in his room. He paces up 

480 And down with restless air, and half aloud 
Declaims an interesting monologue. 

" What charming misery this is ! to be 
Enraptured with a woman without hope 
Of marrying. Tis worse than gazing at 

485 A chest of gold while pinched with poverty. 
Betrothed to Catherine of Normandy, 
In love with Catherine of Anjou inn. 
I long to make proposal to the girl ; 
But such a thing would stir the wrath of him 

490 From whom the means proceed — my father — ho 
Would probably disown his son for such 
An act of disobedience. I love 
The girl with all my heart : the magnet r\ 
Her soul has touched my heart of steel, and both 

495 Have clung together. Such a nature as 

Her own has harmonized with mine : so sweet, 
So strong : a woman, and a mortal ; but 
A being that I feel with subtile thrill 
Of instinct was created for my arms, 

500 As well as I for hers. Yes, I'm in love — 
A love that elevates and dignifies ; 
Refines and chastens all the faculties ; 



82. [Canto IV. 

With noble ardour stimulates to new 
Activity the dormant attributes." 

505 Then s'tting down he mused awhile ; was lost 
In meditation : — should he speak to her. 
And if she favored him, to marry her, 
And take the consequence ? He pondered long : 
At last it was decided ; yes, he would. 

510 Now misery began anew: would she 

Accept his suit? He felt with all his heart 
She would, and yet his haughty nature shrank 
From i'jrnominious repulse. How would 
He feel ; the heir of Anjou's coronet, 

515 To be refused — and by a peasant girl 

For all he knew, although refined, and of 
A courtly bearing. But his mind was made : 
He would advance his proposition on 
The morrow, and await the dread reply. 

FOURTH SECTION-. 

520 The garden is our stage when next we meet. 
The curtain rises on the scene : upon 
A rustic bench is seated Catherine, 
Who knits with industry, and breathes the pure 
Delightful air, and basks in sunshine's smile. 
525 Madame appears, and says in gentle tone, 

" Now come my child, you have been out enough: 
I fear the morning is too damp for you." 

" Oh not at all "Madame," replied the girl 
In haste, " the dewy atmosphere imparts 
530 A salutary stimulant throughout 
My constitution." 

" That may be the case," 
Returned Madame, " but you have sat at least 
One hour my child." 

To which the girl replied, 
" But I am feeling very well Madame." 
535 " And much it gratifies me that you are," 
Madame rejoined, " so do not have relapse 
By doing that which would precipitate 
Your illness." 

Still the girl persisted, " But 
Madame, it is so lovely here ; I wish 



LiWE 540. j 88. 

540 To stay." 

" Then I will not object : but do 
Be cautious Catherine." 

" I will Madame." 
As dissappeared the dame upon the right 
The heir of Aujou entered, with his head 
Inclined io meditation's posture on 
545 His breast, but on observing Catherine I 

He noiselessly approached, and touching her 
Upon the shoulder notified thereby 
Of his appearance at her side. 
She turned with violent start ; exclaimed 

" Monsieur ! " 
550 And for a single moment seemed unnerved. 

" What, frightened at my feeble touch ? " the heir 
Inquired. 

Recovering she said, " Your step 
Is silent as the snow in stocking feet." 
The crimson hue returned with vividness, 
555 But what the cause of that has been we must 
Conjecture, for we cannot know. 

Upon 
The bench, but at respectful distance sat 
The youth, and to the duchess in disguise 
Remarked, observing her the while, 

" I'm glad 
560 To meet you here : how lonesome I have been 
Without your company." 

The beauty raised 
Her eyes to his with calm indifi^erent glance. 
" Indeed Monsieur ! you flatter me to thus 
Confess that I am such a factor in 
565 Your peace and happiness." But while she spoke 
It tested all the mighty energies 
Within her slight physique to curb the waves 
Of scarlet hue that sought her cheek with fierce 
Determination, and required a firm 
0*70 Resistance and a vigorous will to force 
The undulating breast to cease its quick 
Expression, and expel the ardent fire 
Of rapture from her eye. 

" Indeed you are. 
And more ; " tUe heir replied with fervent tongue, 



84. [Canto IV. 

575 " The index hand of rapture points to you, 
And counsels me to satisfy the great 
And honest craving that I have w^ithin. 
In you the attributes of womankind 
Attain their highest quality. Within 

580 The compass of your presence life assumes 
A diflferent aspect, and becomes a vale 
Of paradise." 

The feelings of the girl 
Had now approached rebellion's point, but still 
The proud exalted poul refused to flinch. 

585 " You startle me Monsieur," she answered, oool 
As water-lilies on a summer's day, 
" Indeed the tone of your address is not 
In harmony with our respective ranks." 
But Bertrand was not thus to be repulsed. 

590 "You are no peasant! what the mystery 
Can be defies my skill to manifest. 
You are an equal and a lady : I 
Esteem you such ; for etiquette and speech 
Have played the traitor, and exposed the truth. 

59.3 Now Catherine excuse these random words, 
This lack of ceremony and the eager speech, 
. And hearken to the language of my soul ; 
For when I say ' I love you ' can I treat 
Upon the subjt-ct in more hallowed, deep, 

600 Convincing or impressive terms ? '^ 

Then with 
Her manner still unruffled she inquired, 
" What have I to assure me that you mean 
The words you speak ? " 

At which the heir replied, 
" By testimony rendered by yourself: 

605 For have you not expressed surprise that I, 
A gentleman, would condescend to woo 
A peasant girl ? — which you in truth are not 1 
I hazard all for you ; for if you should 
Ba lowly born it would not alter my 

610 Resolve at all, for I would marry, love, 

And cherish you the same, in spite of all." 

Then drawing closer, while h( r knitting dropped, 
He pressed his suit ; and while the tender wordg 
"Were trembling in her ^ars her fage putsboqe 



Line 615.] 85. 

615 Aurora's rosy flush. He took her hand, 
And spoke in gentle, yet in manly voice. 

" I would that I could crystalize my thoughts, 
That you might be convinced my motivt-s are 
As pure as angel's breath. I seek thy love, 

620 And would a suitor be unto a heart 

That beats responsive to emotion's thrill. 

Ah lady, thou dost know it not, but on 

Thy cheek the graphic revelation of • 

Tliy tender sentiments is there di.-^played. 

625 The heart, more sensitive, can not conceal 
Emotions, and defies the mind. The hand 
I hold doth tremble — not with fear, but with 
The conflict of the feelings. I can see 
The battle of emotions in the eye, 

630 Dilated, and upon the lip, within 

The heaviug breast, that unbeknown to thee 
Is far too circumscribed to thus restrain 
The overflowing passions of thy heart. 
Unlock the bonds of sweet reserve, that they 

635 As unimprisoned birds may seek my breast, 
And gratify the starving void within 
My being that doth hunger for thy love. 
Respond, do not withold the riches of 
Affection, but bestow them on the one 

640 Who now implores the precious boon." 

The p ut 
Up feelings of the maid had mutinied, 
Displayed themselves as Bertrand had described. 
But with a struggle fiercer than the clash 
Of arms she beat emotion back again, 

645 And sitting proudly up she waved her hand. 
Remarking thus : 

" Monsieur, be kind enough 
To walk about, and leave me to myself 
A period," for Catherine was still 

650 An invalid. 

" Of course," the heir replied ; 
And bowing deferentially withdrew ; 
Remarking to himself^ with little laugh, 
" An emperor would not have courage to 
Defy that stern command. A peasant girl ! " 

655 Wbea Bertratid ha4 I'^t^^ed her thoughts revolved 



86. [Canto IV. 

Within her brain, confused and meaningless : 
But soon the rational exercise of clear 
And ordered reason sprang from chaos, for 
It soon expressed itself in these remarks : 

660 " Indeed I'm in profound predicament! 
What shall my answer be ? If I refuse 
I spurn the man I love ; yes love, with all 
The ardent nature of a woman's heart, 
A woman's mind, a woman's being, that 

665 Desires but love in recompense, and yearns 
For pure affection to requite her soul. 
If I accept, I take withm my arms 
A stranger, though the savior of my life ; 
"Who gives me proof of his devotedness 

6*70 By urging me to marry him — without 
A friend or dowry but my meager self. 
Again I say I love him; and without 
Considering his means, or prospect to 
Relieve my wants ; without inquiring 

675 About his history, but taking him 
As he would also me, I will accept 
His brief proposal and consent to be 
His wife. Monsieur Protentius ! 

Hearing this 
Imperious command, the heir appeared 

680 Before his lady-love, remarking, " As 
A queen commands her general before 
Her, I am here." 

^, Reclining with a mien 

Of regal haughtiness the maiden thus 
Remarked : 

" Monsieur, your course is singular; 

685 You have addressed my love in ardent terms. 
Without research in to my former life. 
Extraction or my character. You would 
Accept me as I am, and trust the depth 
Of my integrity for your reward. 

690 Your esiruestness I cannot doubt : your speech 
Of love was heated iq a furnace, white 
With heart consqming glow and fevered s^ate, 
The quiver of your frame discloses how 
Intense your feelings are, and animates 

j89§ Ypur features with convincing strength, Rlik§ 



Line 696.] Vt, 

Sincere and obvious." 

Maliciously 

She smiled within herself to thus return 

The criticism he had made of her 

When tendering his love. 

" I beg you not 
700 To keep me in suspense," the passionate 

Appeal burst forth. 

" Control yourself Monsieur," 

Returned the girl, though deep emotions stirred 

Her noble soul, " The gravity of this 

Occasion interdicts unseemly haste. 
'705 Your zeal prohibits doubt of earnestness; 

Your knowledge of my present state assures 

Me that the reason which incited you 

To tender overtures of love to me 

Can not be criticised, and therefore, as 
710 I heartily reciprocate the love, 

I will accept." 

She rose, and in his arms 

Was clasped in strong emotional embrace. 

FIFTH SECTION. 

But why should we, with vulgar gaze observe 
The passionate expression of a love 

715 Before restrained, but now so ardently 

Exchanged. We cannot feel as they ; nor can 
Appreciate the fervent joy that swells 
Tlie bosom, nor experience the rush 
Of noble passions at the binding of 

720 These virgin hearts. Tis not for us to gaze 
Upon the sweet, half-sobbing eestacy 
Of first embrace, nor at the multiplied 
Caresses, as the lips, with greeting warm 
Exchange the tender touch. So let us leave 

725 Them to themselves. Rebuke the jeer, 
Reproach the laugh that rises to the lip. 
Is not this sweet occasion one that God 
Has honored with his blesssing ? so refrain 
From heartless sneers. What though the loving 
cheeks 

780 Are pressed together with a tender hug, 



8k^ [Canto IV. 

And thrills of rapture surge within the veins : 
What though they emanate, with voice intense, 
Endeaiiug attributes in eager ears, 
As, clingiag to each other they out-pour 

735 A torrent of affection in their love : — 

The sight is not for us. So we withdraw. 
And leave them solitaiy in their joy. 
The cold, proud, stately air of Catherine 
Dissolves before the glowing heat of love. 

740 This heat of love had softened, and the blows 
Of fierce adversity had welded fast 
The hearts that all before were frigid and 
Unyielding ; for observe what Bertrand says 
As we return and listen, as they calmly sit 

745 Enchained within each other's warm embrace. 
" Felicity sublime ! " the heir remarks^ 
*' Has mortal happiness exceeded this ? " 
" I venture not," returns the future bride. 
Again he spoke : " How sweet to human souls 

750 Is this ecstatic period of love. 

Tis new to me ; my frigid heart has been 
Insensible to all assaults of love. 
And yet emotion was not wanting there. 
But waiting to be thrilled by passion, pure 

755 And earnest, stable as a movmtain spire. 
" For love is pivot of the universe, 
The axle which the fates revolve around, 

The link connecting Earth with Paradise, 
The cord with which our human hearts are bounc. 

760 *' Our lives would cheerless deserts almost be 
If not for Heav'n's inspiring gift of love ; 

It flavors Nature's draught of life, and wins 
A royal benediction from above." 

" Why Bertrand dearet^t," Catherine remarked 

765 " You speak in poetry ! " 

He thus replied : 
*' But why are you surprised my Catherine : 
Is not this season of affection fraught 
With sentiments of love's expressive speech? 
Tis often thought that poetry is fit 

770 For sentimental swains and love-sick maids. 
Unworthy of a higher end and aim. 
Such verdict is unjust : we may indulge 



Line 7Y3. ] 89. 

Our fancies iu this pleasiug way, and seek 
To illustrate our seutinents in verse, 

775 And yet ascribe to it a nobler task. 

The eveuiag zephyr fans the fervid cheek. 
When heated by the torrid summer's sun, 
But when excited iuto anger, smites 
And devastates a province with its might." 

780 Then halting for a momer.t to impress 
A demonstration, he continued thus : 

" And now, my Catherine, as we have kept 
The secret of our private lives, and loved 
And won for our affections' sake, would not 

785 It be most seemly to relate our own 
Peculiar histoiies, that we may be 
Informed about the past of each our lives ? " 

" I certainly agree," said Catherine, 
But both experienced a vague, a dread, 

790 Uncomfortable impression in the breast. 

" With pleasure then," resumed the noble youth, 
" I tell you of my house and rank ; for I 
Am not a private gentleman, but shall 
Esteem it honor to escort you to 

795 The princely palace of my sire; for I 

Am Bertrand, son and heir of Anjou's duke." 

Our Catbeiine had ]iassed through harsh ordeals. 
Experienced the violent rage of pride 
In chains, and poverty, and shame ; but all 

800 Were now engaging in discordant strife 
Within her bosom, only lately healed. 
She turned, and gazed with searching look upon 
Her loved affianced ; her natural pride 
Predominated : with a lofty air 

805 She ro.-e — a duchess undisguised. With, form 
Erect and shoulders back j-he cast a brief. 
Disdainful, and half-sneering look upon 
The man who thus would place himself above 
Her rank. Her voice resounded as the ring 

810 Of tempered steel, as proudly she exclaimed, 
" And / am Catherine of Normandy," 



I 



CANTO V. 

THE RETRIBUTION. 
" Our miseries are ended^ yours begin. " 

FIRST section: 

Our scenery must change: in place of siglits 
And sounds of rural life, we meet within 
The ducal palace of Lord Bertrand's sire. 
Within the drawing room the Duke and court 
5 Are entertaining Normandy, as when 

We first became acquainted with the group. 
Omitting weary details, we will pierce 
The subject to the pith, and listen to 
The Duke of Normandy, who thus begins : 

10 " Your grace, your message of three weeks ago 
Was duly read and answered, and the fact 
Your son was absent for a month, upon 
Important business was respected ; but 
I felt a great relief when I received 

15 Your missive, for a greater favor could 

Have hardly been bestowed, although your act 
Was all-unconsciously performed. If you 
Had not delayed the time of marriage I 
Would certainly have had to have it done." 

20 This information stirred the Duchess' tongue : 
** Why you surprise me very much, your grace." 

" But more astonished you will be, when I 
Conclude my narrative, dear lady," said the Duke. 
A moment's pause, he then continued : 

" When 

25 Arriving at my castle, I had told 

My daughter of betrothal to your son, 
She soon evinced rebellious teudenei«i 



dl [Canto V. 

And had the singular audacity 
To beg of me to reconsider my 
30 Decision." 

" Oh impossible ! " exclaimed 
The Duchess, and the Duke of Anjou said, 
" You fill me with profound astonishment, 
Your grace." 

The Duke of Normandy resumed: 
" Of course a blunt refusal was the sum 
35 And substance of my answer, but I told 
My daughter that I did not tolerate 
Dispute, and couched in such severe 
Expressions and demeanor that she left 
The room without reply, although twas plain 
40 That she was agitated to extreme. 
She thereupon retired to her room, 
And if she had eloped with morning mists 
She had not dissappeared with more success." 
" Can such a thing be true ? " the Duchess spoke 
45 With wonder in her voice. Her husband said, 

" You say, your grace, your daughter ran away ? " 

" I nothing said, your grace, she disappeared 
And that is all I know," replied the Duke. 

" Have you not searched for her ? " inquired her 
grace. 
60 " Of course, your grace," the Duke responded, 
" Woods 
And streams — the land has been explored, to yield 
A trace of her." 

" And all in vain ? " her grace 
The Duchess asked. 

" In vain," replied the lord 
Of Normandy, and Anjou murmured low, 
55 " How very sadl you think that she has drowned 
Herself? " 

" I am at loss to know what she 
Has done," rejoined the guest with frequent sighs, 
" She had retired, while all her clothing lay 
As she had disappareled for the night. 
60 Her jewels undisturbed — in brief, had she 
Been sleeping in her chamber when alarm 
Was sounded it could not have furnished less 
Of clew and circumstance than when I first 



Link 64.] ^8. 

Was called to view the room. I never knew 
, 65 A mystery so barren, starved of facts 
To manifest obscurity, or clews 
And hints to help elucidate a case." 

With wonder in her voice the Duchess asked, 
" But does your grace desire that we should know 
70 That she had disappeared without a word, 
Or taken any article of dress? " 

" Her sleeping vesture I except ; and that 
Is what alarms me most ; I fear that she 
Has gone to some secluded spot, and cast 
75 Herself within the water there." 

The Duke 
Was much affected, and was silent for 
A time: the ducal pair maintained their peace. 

Then Anjou murmured half aloud, " This is 
Distressing! " then of Normandy inquired, 
80 " But why had she objections to our son? " 
" I really do not know ; nor did I give 
Her opportunity to tell." 

They all 
Relapsed in silence for awhile, then spoke 
The host : " And has your grace the story spread 
85 Abroad! " and Normandy arousing, said, 

" The servants of my house, the soldiers, and 
The peasantry contiguous, alone 
Are cognizant of the affair." 

" But why 
Conceal the fact," his grace of Anjou asked, 
90 " Why not promulgate to the land around 
The story of her disappearance strange 
And sudden." 

" I will tell your graces why," 
Rejoined the Duke. " Of course 1 must expect 
To have my orders and directions all 
95 Obeyed implicitly : but have you not 
Experienced a feeling of regret, 
Akin to real remose pursuing acts 
Which conscience tells you to be right, and yet 
You almost wish you had not done? " 

" Ah yes," 
100 The Duke of Anjou slowly answered him, 

" Tis one of many things that mar the peace 



04. [Canto Y, 

Of mind, alas ! " 

His DucheBS added thus : 

*' And from the minuend of happiness 

Subtracts the joy." 

Then Normandy — " The cause 
105 Of my concern is that I did not give 

Her audience, to speak to me of her 

Dissatisfaction, even though it might 

Have been a trivial complaint. But she 

Has reached the age of vs^omanhood, and should 
110 Perhaps be recognized, and not denied 

Therihgt to give opinion in a case 

Of such importance as her marriage to 

Your son- " and Anjou murmured thoughtfully, 

"Tis true.' 

The Duke of Normandy resumed : 
115 "It really quite unnerves me with the thought 

That by my harshness I have driven her 

To suicide, if such should really be 

The case." 

The conscience stricken father turned 

Away to hide his deep emotion. Then 
120 The host observed, " But were you not convinced 

Your action was of justice born ? " 

" Perhaps," 

Was doubtfully returned. " But then the bleak 

And grim result." 

Again the three relapsed 

In thought, until the Duke of Anjou spoke: 
125 " Your grace of Normandy, I have to make 

A slight confession, which, as you have so 

Explained the disappearance, of your child, 

Is proper right and just to you. The day 

Of your departure from beneath our roof 
130 My son was guilty of a serious act — 

Of stirring up dissensions in my house ; 

Not quite insurgency, but setting bad 

Examples of a dangerous habit, as, 

Expressing his opinion of my acts, 
135 My motives ; which, on finding out 

I sent him from the residence, to stay 

A month beyond my sight, until I could 

Forget my anger. But paternal love, 



Line 139.] ftl. 

Assisted by her grace, was far too strong 
140 For me to countervail. I yielded, sent 

For him. The messengers returned, they could 
N'ot find a trace of him. I did not want 
To publish his recall throughout the land, 
For that would also tell his banishment." 
145 At which the Duke of Normandy replied : 
" But how much more do I experience 
Of grief, when I consider that my child 
Is lost, I know not where — in water, or 
The grave, or wanderer upon the earth." 
150 Their troubles occupied their thoughts a time, 
And then again the Duke of Anjou spoke : 

" But what do you propose to do, your grace ? " 
" I will return," responded Normandy, 
" And if my child has not been seen or heard 
155 From, then I will announce a search throughout 
The ducliy, and implore his majesty 
To aid me in pursuit." 

" And you return ? " 
Inquired the host, and Normandy replied, 
" To-morrow." 

Then the Duke of Anjou turned, 
160 And to his Duchess said : — 

" Shall we not 
Escort his grace to his dominions ? it 
Would be a pleasant journey I am sure." 

"With pleasure," was her grace's answer: then 
The host remarked, 

" Your grace, with your consent 
* 165 We will aeompany yourself and train 
To your estate." 

The guest with feeling bowed, 
And answered him : 

" I owe you many thanks 
For these expressions of fraternal state." 
His grace of Anjou rang a bell, and then 
lie Replied, " Tis nothing." — To the page who quick 
Responded, "Lord Augustus." — To the guest 
Continued, " Mention it no more." 

His wife 
The pentence supplemented, paying, with 
A smile, " Allusion to the matter is 



96. [Canto V. 

Its To magnify a trifle." 

" But I fear 
I am a burden to your graces, for 
Your courtesy is great indeed, and will 
Destroy your comfort if persisted in." 

My Lord Augustus entered at this point, 
180 And Anjou to him gave his orders thus : 

" My lord, to-morrow we escort his grace 
To his estate : be kind enough to see 
That all is ready for the journey thence." 

" Your wishes need no second word, your grace, 
185 Responded Lord Augustus with a bow.' 
The ducal party rose, and Anjou said. 
"The morning sun will see us on our way." 

SECOND SECTION, 

"We now revert attention to the inn, and see 
Lord Bertrand enter, pulling on his gloves. 

190 " I thought that Catherine was here : it seems 
That she has been detained. We go to walk 
This morning. She is getting better fast. 

" Most certainly this is a novel case : 
I had decided to address the girl 

195 Before I knew her rank ; her innate charms 
Acomplishing the issue of the love*. 
For notwithstanding my espousal to 
The daughter of the Duke of Normandy, 
I set my heart upon a love that knew 

200 No check ; determined that the one to choose 
The bride was certainly the swain, and not 
The sire. However, I had nerved myself 
To face severest opposition, and 
Resolved to leave my fathers palace and 

205 Enlist beneath the banner of the king, 

( Providing that his grace could not succed 
In thwarting my designs, if so resolved,) 
Before submitting to be married to 
A woman that I'd never seen. But now 

210 A major part of all embarrassments 

Have disappeared, vexations overcome. 
Discordant circumstances harmonized. 
The only obstacle that interferes 



Line 214.] 97. 

With consummating courtship by the act 
215 Of marriage is the lady's sire ; and should 

He persevere in animosity 

Against his daughter, all that we can do 

Is to avoid him totally. But then, 

My father might object — insist that veives 
220 Must bring a dowry : that would but compel 

Me to assert my independence as 

Before. My Catherine would not retreat 

A step before his grace her father, but 

With haughty bearing wait for him to broach 
225 The reconciliation of the two." 

The door swung open; Catherine appeared, 

As radient as only she could be. 

" My lord 1 " she said, in voice of silver tone. 

But Bertrand answered her, with troubled look 
230 And voice, 

" Do not address me so; my name 

Is magnified into a melody 

Of love when uttered by your tuneful lips. 

It always sounded harsh and meaningless 

Until inspired by your lyric voice." 
235 With cardial greetinor Catherine replied, 

" No other but your christian name I'll speak. 

I've kept you waiting Bertrand dear ; I hope 

Your patience has been equal to the t sk." 

At whicli the heir responded lovingly, 
240 " It always is when you are culprit dear. — 

Now haste 1 " and passintr through the garden door 

They dissappeared, with feelings light as down. 
But scarcely have they passed beyond our sight, 

Nor have their foot-falls even died away, 
245 When at the door in front a knock is heard — 

A knocking meant to 'rouse the inmates who 

Perhaps were sleeping overmuch. 

Madame 

Appears, exclaiming to herself, " There is 

A person at the door," and soon it swung 
250 A«ide, admitting gentlemen that we 

Have seen before — the Treasurers of both 

Estates, Augustus and Sebastian. 

Lord 

Augustus greeted the Madame in brief 



98. [Canto V. 

Expression, to her consternation, thus : 
255 " His grace the Duke of Anjou, with her grace 
The Duchess, and his grace of Normandy, 
Will soon demand your hospitality." 

At this Madame replied in great dismay 
" Oh how do you expect me to prepare 
260 An entertainment for their graces in 
So short a time ? " 

" Now do not be alarmed," 
Sebastian gently said, consoling her, 
" Your guests are not fastidious at all, 
And will expect but in proportion to 
265 Your capabilities to entertain." 

And Lord Augustus supplemented thus: 
" Prepare a lunch, as simple as you please: 
I'm sure their graces would enjoy a plain 
Substantial meal in preference to all 
2*70 Concoctions of a pastry cook. Now do 

Not fret, but simply do the best you can." 

" I hear the bugle ! " said Sebastian, " Haste 
Madame, and make your preparations." 

" Stay 
Within, my lord," Augustus said, as he 
275 Withdrew to meet the ducal party, while 
Sebastian tarried to receive the guests. 

" How long will they remain, my lord? " 
Inquired the Madame. 

" 'T will not be long," 
Said he, " An hour or so : their graces have 
280 Escorted Normandy as far as this. 

And leave him here. — But you had better haste." 
Madame retired, and soon the Dukes and trains 
Appeared, and took possession of the room. 
" Your graces will excuse the poverty 
285 Of your reception, as the inn was not 

Prepared for such invasions." Thus the kind 

Sebastian made apology for the 

Madame. 

The Duchess answered, " Do not thus 
Disturb yourself, my lor-d ; tis perfectly 
290 Excusable." 

" Have you arranged for lunch 
My lord," the Duke of Anjou asked. 



Line 292. ] 99. 

" I have 
Your grace," Augustus answered, and the Duke 
Resumed, 

" The journey makes me hungry ; same 
With you your grace ? " and Normandy replied, 
295 " The same, your grace : the morning air provokes 
My appetite, until it rivals that 
Of starving wolves." 

At this Madame appeared. 
And bowed to Lord Sebastian from the door. 
The peer observed: 

" The lunch is ready now ; 
300 And if your graces will repair thereto 

Madame will strive to do her best for you." 

THIRD SECTION. 

Has not the reader often noticed how 
A tiny vortex will attract the bits 
Of floating matter separated by 

305 Considerable space, and concentrate 

The atoms ? Thus the moving vortex of 
The fates — or Providence — is bringing all 
The characters together in our tale. 
The scene to next engage our interest 

310 Is in the garden, by the bench where sat 
The lovers but a day or two ago. 

A person enters slowly, seats himself 
In silence, and appears to bear a load 
Of trouble, heavy, burdensome. Upon 

315 His face dejection and despair have hewn 
Deep furrows in a countenance of stone. 
But listen while he speaks, and see if we 
Can recognize familiar tones of voice. 
" Well here I am again ; a wanderer 

320 Upon the surface of tlie globe. I can't 

Remain at ease : my conscience goads me so 
That when I sit and think it spears me with 
Its poignant tip, till madness must ensue." 
He wearily arose and paced the path. 

325 " So restless have I been for these few days 
That I have not remained in one abode 
For any length of time. I thought I would 



100. [Canto V, ' 

Retnrn unto the inn, and by a hint 
Or word discover if the bodies of 

330 The two were found upon the jagged rocks. 
I promptly left the bluff as soon as I 
Beheld the suicides. I did not wish to stay." 
He stopped his countermarching and resumed 
His seat ; then raised himself and glanced around. 

335 " Alone with silence: yet doth silence SDeak 
A grave and fitting tongue to such as I. 
In all its grim and weary solitude 
Tt steals within the portals of the soul. 
When noises indiscrimminate pervade 

340 Then is the drowsy conscience lulled to sleep : 
When all withdraw, and Silence walks upon 
The pavement of the soul with stately tread. 
Each echo rings as pulses in the ear, 
Which though we seem to hear, we hear them not. 

345 Up start* the frightened conscience from its sleep 
As though by adder bitten to its death. 
But Silence ceases not its measured pace : 
As naught disturbs its solitary walk 
It countermarches through the corridors 

850 Of the immortal soul with ringing step, 

That stirs the guilty conscience to the core. 

And when the hushed and deathly phantom creeps 

Before the stricken spirit, bowed with grief, 

It turns its calm and holy eyes upon 

355 The touched and grieving heart in all its woe. 
And stealing off it leaves it with its God." 

Again the restless man arose and paced 
The garden walk ; but billows of remorse 
"Were started in his soul, and surged with hot, 

860 Impetuous vehemence through his being. 

'• I feel the tortures of a fierce remorse, 
A consciousness of guilt, that lacerates 
My soul although it is as hard as flint — 
Such virtue doth compunction's edge possess. 

365 How well I recollect the stern advice 

My tutor once addressed to me: it burns 
My br'^in as I recall it to my mind. 

" * Can you sport with thorns and thistles, 
Can you handle poignant bristles 



Line 370. J 101. 

870 And expect to feel them harmless as the lion mouths 
of yore ? 
You will leave them torn and bleeding, 
And your folly sorely needing 
All the comfort it can gather to relieve the bit- 
ter sore.' " 
Ah sinful man ! that luscious morsel from 
375 The vat of Hell has cost you dearly — pierced 
Your vitals with its deadly sting, and scorched 
Your writhing soul with thrice tormenting flames. 
Again he sank upon the seat, and groaned : 
" Oh horrors ? black, eternal horrors ! what 
380 Can be the future of transported souls ? 
Inherent thought rebels against belief 
That I am but a brute without a soul: 
For I can feel the passion and the flood, 
The conflict of the conscience with the base 
385 And brutish appetites, that rot the flesh, 
And drag the lofty nature from its throne. 
The place prepared for carnal pouls must be 
A duugeon deep, where solitude in all 
Its black and ghastly grimness reigns supreme ; 
390 That spirits doomed to everlasting woe 
May weep and wail of their iniquity." 

Then sank the guilty wretch upon his knees : 
His face was white with terror, as he seemed 
To g;izB with staring eyes in Hell itself. 
395 The covering had fallen from his head ; 

One hand had grasped his hair ; the other stretched 
Beyond, as though to keep executors 
Of wrath divine away ; — while through his breast 
The waves of anguish rolled, and threatened to 
400 Divorce the soul and body with their might. 
" It cannot be that Hell is but a place 
Of never quenching fire, where all the bad 
And criminal of the earth are swept as, dust ; 
For such a punishment would be too mild. 
405 I could with pleasure thrust my arm into 
A pot of seething metal, watch the flesh 
Roast, char, and drop from off the bone, and see 
The sinews curl, and blood dry up, if I 
Could render an atonement for the sin 
410 Upon my conscience, burning in my soul. 



102. [Canto V. 

I could endure without a murmur all 
The maddest agonies of death, and deem 
Them but the scourging of a childish whip ; 
I'd laugh and sing when in a tiger's grip, 

415 Though tearing limb from limb, and gnawing at 
My vitals with his hungry fangs — defy 
Him to his worst ; would put my hand before 
An adder's teeth, receive his venom in 
My blood, and watch it swell, and feel the darts 

420 Of mortal torment setir my nerves — all these 
Would I endure without complaint, if I 
Could wash the ghastly sins from hand and heart 
For when the conscience wakes to feel its sin, 
Its anguish then becomes the worst of woes." 

425 The hitherto revengful man was now 
A victim of profound despair. His soul 
Had left its secret chamber, stood revealed 
Upon his countenance in agony 
Of grief. The horrors of the case had dawned 

430 Upon his mind successively, and torn 

His spirit as with tempest's rage. The dire 
Result of all his evil deeds arose 
Before his mind, and crualied his spirit with 
Its fearful weight. Oh had pome gentle soul 

435 Been present, sympathized with him in his 
Distress, and led him to repentance, would 
There not have been a spirit saved from doom? 
We do not know : for human nature is 
As deep as bottomless perdition, and 

440 It acts defiant of a rule or law. 

FOURTH SECTION. 

As he concluded his soliloquy 
He heard the sound of voices. Starting to 
His feet he sought escape. Too late : the wall 
Was high and difficult to climb, and as 

445 It was a corner of the garden, all 

Escape was gone. He turned to see who was 
Approaching, and the sight that met his gaze 
Completely paralyzed his nerves, and stopped 
The beating of his heart. Among the trees 

450 He saw a couple, arm in arm, appear. A cry 



Line 461. ] 108. 

Escaped the tortured wretch, as he beheld 
The objects of his fright, with horror keen. 

" Oh phantoms from the realm of night 1 do I 
See resurrected corpses come to mock 
455 My agony. Where shall 1 hide from them? 

Behind this screen of flowers. Here they come ! " 
Retreat had scarce been covered when the forms 
Of Catherine and Bertrand entered, sat 
Upon the bench, Avith arms entwined about 
460 Each other. Bertrand was the first to speak. 

" You must be tired, my love ; although our walk 
Was not extended ; still, you have not yet 
Recovered from the shock that you received." 
The silvery voice replied, " Tis so, my lord - 
465 My Bertrand, I should say. I have enjoyed 
Our ramble very much, and earned a rest 
By honest exercise." Then noticing 
That Bertrand's face was grave, she archly said, 
" What makes you sober, dear ; does conscience 
prick ? 
4Y0 " Oh no," replied the heir, " but burdened with 
A thought about yourself, " 

" Indeed ! " returned 
The voluntary exile with a smile, 
*' Am I such consequence ? " 

" Assuredly 
You are," protested he with evidence. 
415 " Now Catherine, the opportunity 

Affords a time to ask a question which 
" I have not put to you as yet." 

" Proceed," 
The lady said with charming calmness, " I 
Am ready to be catechised." 

" Why did 
480 You leave your home," said he, observing her, 
" Without at least becoming cognizant 
Of my appearance, virtues, vices, and 
My personage in general ? " 

*' Because," 
She slowly answered him, " I would not see 
485 You till the day of marriage," 

" True," concurred 
The heir, ** and is that all there was ? Oh do 



104. [Canto V. 

Not fear to tell me : do proceed ; " for she 
Had hesitated. Let us guess the thoughts 
That occupied her mind the little space 
490 Of time that Bertrand spoke, and waited for 
Reply — a moment at the most. 

The man 
That sat beside her, whom she loved with all 
Her heart in spite of courtship's brevity ; 
Whom she believed was honest, virtuous 
495 And temperate ; in her eyes a paragon 
Of moral excellence — this was the man 
Who had been charged with horrifying hins. 
And vices fit to paralyze the tongue 
That uttered them. Had he been vilified ? 
500 This noble specimen of man, whose fair 

C<»mplexion, honey breath and healthy eye 
Proclaimed the accusation to be false. 

With fire proceeding from her eyes she said, 
" I will explain — for I believe he lied! " 
505 The vehemence of this remark was such 
As made the heir exclaim in much surprise, 
" Who lied ? " 

The man that I will tell you of," 
Replied the girl, now thoroughly aroused, 
While Bertrand wondered why the bushes shook 
510 So strangely ; for the wretch was overcome 
With fright, and could not keep himself within 
Control, and trembled violently, which made 
The flower bushes rustle nervously. 

" Before my father told me of his plan, 
515 Maturrd, decided^ — did you ever know 

A monk by name of Charles, that lived within 
The monastery near your residence ? " 

" Why no 1 " replied Lord Bertrand, startled at 
The change of subject suddenly. 

" Then think again," 
520 Commanded Catherine. 

" But I am sure," 
Insisted Bertrand in surprise. 

" Then who 
Was your confessor? " asked the maid, with stern 
Demeanor. 

" Father Jean," responded lie. 



Line 524.] 105. 

" And did you never have confession from 
A friar of the monastary ? " 

"No," 
The -wondering youth replied, with anxious look. 
" Then listen to my story. At the hour 
Of sundown Father Augustine would come 
To hear confession. But one night there came 

530 In place a Father Charles. He brought excuse 
From Father Augustine, and told me then 
That I would shortly have to marry one 
Whose life was vicious, and whose habits bad. 
He said that when at Anjou he received 

535 Confession at the Monastery from 
Lord Bertrand " — 

" Pretty lie ! " the youth broke in, 
With anger in his voice, " I never said 
Confession at the Monastary, nor 
As much as heard of any Father Charles," 

540 But Catherine resumed her narrative. 

" He told me Bertrand would confess his eins 
With mocking reverence, which turned to laugh 
As soon as he was through. He begged and plead 
To save the youth, but all in vain : he seemed 

545 Resolved to slaughter soul and body by t 
His sins." 

" The conscience of the Devil would 
Revolt at such depravity ! " Lord Bertrand said 
Between his teeth. " I wonder what it is 
That makes the bushes yonder shake ? " 

" The windl " 

550 Retorted Catherine, who, nettled by 

The interruption, sharply spoke, and thus 
Resumed : " He then enumerated all 
His sins in such a horrifying stream, 
That naturally I vowed I never would 

555 Become the wife of such a man. He urged 
Me to rebel, by many words, by hints, 
By aggravating questions, numerous 
Ideas, and statements of significance — 
Which I accepted from the man. I asked 

560 His reason and authority for so 
Disclosing secrets of confessional ; 
But he replied he wished to save me from 



lOd. f Canto V. 

The dreadful fate of being fettered to 
A man, whose sins appalled the light of day ; 
565 And asked if his solicitude did not 
His action vindicate." 

" All this he said,*' 
Lord Bertrand asked with stifled voice. 

To which 
His Catherine replied : 

" And many things 
Of moment I forget." 

The beir could not 
570 Restrain his anger longer, and he burst 
In furious denunciations, thus : 

" The author of such villainy must have 
A conscience seared eommuniog with a fiend." 
Then rose, and drew his sword. 

" Where can the knave 
575 Be found? " he cried, with fierce expression in 
Hia voice, upon liis countenance, and in 
His eye ; " Ye * niiuisters of vengeance,' bring 
The wicked wretch to me, and let me sheathe 
My rapier in his carrion heart until 
580 It blushes maiden red. I'll run him through, 
Present his carcass to the vultures for 
A putrid festival! whcie ii the man? " 

The guilty soul behind the shaky screen 
Was overcome. Remorse had weakened him, 
585 And fright had crushed his sjnrit. All his strength 
Was spent, and when tht; frenzied youth proclaimed 
His fearful threats he clung with all his might 
To screen and bush for his support. It strained. 
It weakened, toppled, fell. The crash alarmed 
590 The two, who now confronted Arnaud. Then 
The heir sprang back, and Catherine arose. 
With grave demeanor, stately majesty. 
With keen denunciatory finger, at 
Their foe she pointed, and with solemn voice 
595 Declared, to Bertrand's great surprise, 

" Behold 
The author of our miseries." 

His head 
Was low, his arms were powerless, 
His face was white. He trembled violently 



Liiac 598. J 107. 

As Bertrand, drawing nearer, thus exclaimed : 
" The mystery is solved: the tide recedes, 

600 Reveals the shoal that nearly wrecked our souls. 
You ! Arnaud ! yes, t was you ; the friar, the ghost. 
And you deceived her ladyship, and with 
Your falsehoods so provoked, that she alone 
Departed from her father's house, and in 

605 Despair essayed to take her life. T'was you 
Who haunted me, and when I leaped the cliff 
Exulted with revengeful shout. Why man 
Tis heinous : you must have a monitor 
Of hell within your diabolical 

610 Extent. Perchance you think I did wrong: 
My business was to swell tbe fortunes of 
My father ; therefore it was proper that 
I thoroughly convince him of your sly 
Deceitful nature. I was right: but did 

615 Not rate you evil as you are. Your acts 

Have proved how accurate my scales have been 

In which I weighed your character. I did 

Not heed your threat : when you had gone t was 

lost. 
Nor recollected till the present day. 

620 Suspicion of you as the ghost did not 
Occur to me before or since 1 threw 
Myself into the river." 

This surprised 
His Catherine, who was not yet aware 
Of such a fact occurring. 

" Crimnal wretch ! 

625 Where were you educated for such sin ? 
In Hades College, under tutorship 
Of Satan? Shocking wickedness as yours 
Proclaims instruction froin malignant fiends." 
Then turning to his lady-love he said, 

630 " My lady will withdraw, and leave us for 
A little while to argue on the point." 

The mighty nature of the girl gave way. 
" Oh do not fight a duel love ; you will 
Be killed ! your words have much significance." 

685 " I simply wish to argue on the point," 
Replied her lover tenderly. 

" But you 



108. [Canto V. 

Infer the raiper point," the girl declared, 
In tears. 

" Withdraw," he half commanded her, 
" Do not detain us now." 

With blinded eyes 
640 She ran to gather comfort from Madame. 

FIFTH SECTION. 

Contemporaneous with the scenes above 
Recorded is the simple banquet of 
The ducal party, in the diuiug room 
Of our familiar inn. The peers return, 
645 And in the sitting room they seat themselves. 
Then ]S"ormandy this observation makes : 

" Madame deserves a compliment for this 
Impromptu lunch. T'was excellent indeed." 
" In which opinion I agree," concaired 
650 The Duke of Aujou, and the Duchess joined — 
" My nature craves variety, and this 
Plain wholesome fare is quite a pleasant change." 
The Duke of Normandy and Treasurer, 
Sebastian, held a conference aside, 
655 The sentiment of wliich induced a frown. 
The Duke exclaimed — 

" Your grace has really been 
Too kind : I had anticipated that 
This trifling act of courtesy would be 
From me ; for at this simple parting meal 
660 I hoped to be the host." 

" Your grace forgets," 
Responded Anjou, with a quiet smile, 
" That on my territory you are guest. 
It is my duty thus to entertain. 

" You do have rules indeed," said Normandy, 
665 " But pardon me, your grace, do you observe 
Such obligations always, for I ask 
To learn, but not to be inquisitive? " 

" I always do, your grace," replied the Duke 
Of Anjou smilingly, and Normandy 
670 Affirmed with zeal, 

'* Such virtue doth deserve 
A reconapenge ; tis rare indeed." 



Line Q12. ] 109- 

Th e host 
Rejoined, with pjrave reflection in his v. ice, 

•* Aq act of duty n^-eds no recompeu-e, 
Except tiie consciousness that noble deeds 
6*75 Imoart : for if we s ek rewnrd for acts 
Of'^luty, then tlie elevatin<^ thought 
Of duty fades, to be succeeded by 
A greed of gain." 

" Receive, said Normandy, 
"My thanks for t'is instruction. I regret 
680 That we must part." Then rising he resumed: 
The sun has warned me to pursue my way." 

" A movenent I exceedingly regret," 
Excl limed the Duchess, rising to ht^r feet. 
They a.l had risen, and the Duke advanced 
685 To bid his guest adieu; when ^^uddt^nly 

The garden door was op-n burst, and there 
StvX)d (.Catherine, half blinded by her tears. 
And choked with sobs. Despairingly she screamed, 
' Madame, what shall I do ; he will be killed I " 
690 " My Catherine ! " exclaimed her father as 
He sprang to clasp her in paternal arms. 

" My father ! " she replied, and would have 
thrown 
Herself within his warm embrace, but she 
Remembered what a tragedy was then 
695 Enacted in the garden. 

" Wait ! tis not 
The time for us to greet when Anjou'a son 
Is fighting duels to vindicate our wrongs." 
" My son I " the father cried. 

*' Oh where ? " his wife 
Inquired, in tone of deep anxiety. 
700 The mighty maiden was herself again. 

Her hand' had waved her father back, and now 
Was raised to beckon on the company. 

" Come ! I will lead the way," i^he cried, and 
through 
The open poor the eager people rushed. 
705 But we had best precede them, and behold 
The progress of the fray. Impatiently 
Lord Bertrand challenges his enemy. 

<* Make haste, designing villain, and prepare 



no. [Canto V, 

To die." 

•' Unhappy taunt ; it stirred the fiend 

710 To action in the man, and mocked his woe. 
His spirit had relented, and he felt 
Repentance swehng in his breast. But now 
The appetite returned; the hunger for 
Revenge obtained the mastery. His eye 

715 Could not restrain the fierce malignant gleam. 

He straightened up, unsheathed his wicked blade, 
And cried, 

" Insulting mocker, you will test 
The virtue of my skill before I do 1 
You think because my spirit is consumed 

720 By fierce remorse that I will cringe before 

Your naked sword; you think because my heart 
Is torn by savage passions courage has 
Deserted me. My nerves respond unto 
The call of will although my soul is wrecked. 

725 It matters not if I am right or wrong, 
I must defend myself, or die a slave." 

To this the heir refused response, but fixed 
His eyes upon his deadly foe, and threw 
Himself with vigor in the strife. Their swords 

730 Were crossed in mortal combat, gleamed as when 
The lightning, zigzag, rips the atmosphere. 
The fierce engagement raged with awfnl vim, 
But Bertrand was the stronger, and the skill 
Of Arnaud was of no effect to» meet 

735 The onset of the youth. The ring of steel 
Was all that broke the silence of the scene. 
Then Bertrand beat his adversary down. 
And gave the fatal thrust. His enemy 
Was doomed. A stifled cry of agony 

740 Was all that marked the coneequenee, and as 
He sank the people rushed upon the scene. 

" What, Arnaud! " Anjou, thunderstruck, ex- 
claimed. 
The fast expiring man upraised himself, 
And murmured, 

" Yes, about to meet his God. 

745 Oh I had felt the chilling touch of death. 

Ere this damp, freezing blast had palsied me: 
But never had its awful gloom oppressed 



Line 748. J 111. 

My soul as it this moment does." 

Then to 
His executioner he said, ** I filled 
750 A vial of poison for your death ; it broke. 
And seared my flesh." 

His eye was glazing fast, 
His face was white as fleece, and on his brow 
The dews of dark eternal night were laid. 
The Lady Catherine was overcome, 
755 And Bertrand led her to the rustic bench. 
A painful silence followed — all was still. 
The dying man then raised his eyes to those 
Of Bertrand — spoke in sad, prophetic tones : 
"The poignard of revenge first tickles, then 
760 It stabs : beware, beware 1 " 

Then Bertrand spoke, 
" Our miseries are ended, yours begin," 

A spasm of despair convulsed the face 
Of him who was so soon to meet his doom. 
The head sank lower and lower, till Arnaud lay 
765 A rigid corpse upon the senseless earth. 



MISCELLANEOUS 



POEMS. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



SABBATH MUSIC, 



It was Sabbatti in the city. 

It was Sabbath on the street. 
And a balm of restful oiutment 

Had been poured on tired feet ; 
For the wheel had ceased its rumbling, 

And the whistle held its breath, 
While the rest of weary thousands 

Left the street as still as death. 

Hark ! the sabbath bells were pealing 

Forth their invitations sweet, 
As I paused before the entrance 

Of a sanctified retreat ; 
Left the silent, sleeping pavements, 

Stood within the thronging aisle. 
And adored the God of Heaven, 

Kneeling in the sacred pile. 

Then the solemn stillness vanished. 
As the organ thundered forth, 

All its majesty of volume. 

As the storms from out the North.* 

I could feel the deop-toned thunder, 
Sweeping through my conscious blood, 

I could feel the muse's passioQ 
Undulating as a flood. 



116. I" Sabbath 

4. Now arose the sweet soprano 

In its si'very refrain. 
From a soul of deep emotion 

Flowed the captivating strain : 
Ringing out a wealth of music, 

Thrilliog to the secret soul, 
Up it rose, until exalted 

To the ear of God its goal. 



6. As sky-lark that is mourning 

The companion of its choice 
By a sweet and plaintive wailing. 

Blended in the alto's voice: 
In a swelling tide of music 

Rose the accents soft and clear. 
As the ring of precious mt-tal — 

Faultless to the tuneful ear. 



6. Like a bird of song in Eden, 

Answering in raptured voice 
To the notes of some sweet songster 

Through a vale of paradise. 
Rose the two serapliic voices, 

Caroling their melody, 
In that sweet inspiring anthem, 

— " My faith looks up to thee." 



One could eas'ly dream of Heaven, 

Of the bliss beyond the sky, 
Of the chanting of the seraphs 

To the majesty on high : 
As the anthem rose to Heaven, 

Flowing from the spring of song. 
Through the agitated chambers 

Of my soul it echoed long. 



I could hear the rush of angels, 
Halting in their mute surprise, 

Sent to bear the precious anthem 
To the throne above the skies : 



Music. J H*?- 

I could almost see the father 
Starting from his t^eat iu bliss. 

Lest a single chord of music 

In that anthem they should miss. 



As the thunder on the mountains 

Echoes back from peak to prong. 
Joined the organ and the chorus 

In a tidal wave of song ; 
As a flash of precious jewels 

From a regal diadem. 
Burst the brilliant strains of music 

From the mortal cherubim: 



10. Mighty as the roar of breakers 

Lifting high their peaks of foam. 
Echoed through the gothie arches. 

Thundered to the gilded dome ; 
Lost among the hollow murmurs 

As the breath on frosty air. 
Till the sunlight glowed with nmsic, 

And the mind was filled with prayer. 



11. For it seemed the very rendering, 

Unto these incarnate ears. 
Of the lyrics of the angels, 

That was moving me to tears ; 
And it pierced into my spirit, 

Fluttered through my trembling nerves, 
'Til my soul burst forth m music, 

Rendered to the God it serves. 



12. Thus the sweet enchanting music 

Ravished my immortal soul. 
And prepared it for the sermon 

When the bell had ceased to toll ; 
Words of love aud thoughts of Heaven 

Soothed the spirit, calmed tlie breast. 
And the chords of lovely anthems 

Touched the weary kouI uith rest. 



118. [The Descent 

THE DESCENT OF JEHOVAH. 



A NARRATIVE OF THE RESOLVE AND 

DESCENT OF THE DEITY TO 

DELUGE THE EARTH. 



Jehovali from his lofty throne 

Beholds the sins of man, 
And fiercer has his fury grown, 

And terrible the ban : 
He plans destruction of the race. 

He contemplates a flood, 
To deluge Earth from pole to girth, 

But save the just and good. 



The anger of the King of Bliss 

Is awful to behold. 
He starts in righteous fury from 

His stately throne of gold : 
With scepter of almighty sway 

He smites the crystal path. 
As Heaven rocks the Lord unlocks \ 

His thunderbolts of wrath. 



3. The Deity proclaims his will — 

By seraphim it flies — 
And from the region of the winds 

The coursers of the skies 
In all their dignity and strength 

Parade before the throne ; 
As Heaven bends the Lord ascends 

To make his anger known. 

4. The steeds are sable thunder-clouds 

Whose hoofs the Heavens jar ; 
Their shoulders black as midnight's pall- 
A hurricane his car : 



OP Jehovah.] Ud. 

Each chariot-wheel a whirlwind fierce. 

Revolving dark and swift : 
The shaft a beam of solar gleam 

That penetrates a rift. 



5. Upon the tempest's darkened brow 

A stalwart angel stand?, 
As charioteer he proudly waves 

The ensign, and commands : 
Around the car the thunderbolts 

Arouse the fear of men, 
While meteors flame Jehovah's name — 

That scorns the tongue or pen. 

6. Upon His brow the rainbow dwells, 

Within his grasp the storm, 
Before his face the lightnings flee. 

His frown the tempests form: 
A veil of mist conceals his face 

From mortal eyes below, 
His arm displayed their doom essayed, 

With horror, death and woe. 

7. Along the pathless skies he sweeps, 

With terror to impart. 
To man he reigns invisible 

Within the cyclone's heart ; 
And as the gallant prow of some 

Redoubted ship of war 
The water parts, so forward darta 

The Great Eternal's car. 

8. The planets witness his approach, 

And in their journey's pause. 
To pay their homage to their lord, 

And recognize his laws. 
Upon eUiptics vast and smooth 

They move in solemn course. 
Majestic, grand, his mighty hand 

Provides the motive force. 



120. [ Jehovah. 

9. Across the brilliant firmament 

The blazing comet flies, 
Magnificent in luster clothed 

It lights the midnight skies. 
Upon unmeasured orbit swift 

It scales the height of space, 
Or plunges deep, where planets creep 

With calm resistless pace. 

10. He steps upon a mountain brow, 

He scans the frightened plain, 
His nostrils breathe the doom of man, 

And aggravate his pain : 
The breast of Nature heaves in fear 

As rocks are split in twain. 
And earthquake's jar spreads near and far 

Along the stricken main. 

11. It stirs a lusty tidal-wave 

To rouse from torpid sleep. 
That sweeps and storms with careless strength 

Upon the restless deep : 
The black convulsion heaves and throbs 

Across its timid face ; 
While flees the dawn it thimders on 

With fierce impetuous pace. 

12. Upon the doomed and shuddering earth 

In majesty God treads, 
The visfige of the waters deep 

His perturbation dreads: 
Upon the pinions of the wind 

Omipotent he soars, 
And dark his lips with black eclipse. 

When baleful tempest roars. 



Recbeatiok.] Ifl, 



RECREATION, 



Are you weary, child of trouble. 

Do the paths of life offend, 
Is thy soul at couflict iu thee 

With the ills that uever mend % 
Does thy daily toil oppress thee 

By its fever and its weight ? 
Does the tide of life beset thee. 

Toiling early, toiling late. 



2. If the world seems harsh, unfeehng, 

In its strife for gain and gold, 
If the sun that shines upon thee 

Seemeth not the sun t)f old, 
If the noise and smoke of city 

Dulls the senses, clogs the brain, 
Cast aside the load of trouble — 

Wander forth through pike and lane. 



Leave the heat and smoke of business, 

Leave the office and the street, 
Leave the din and roar and clatter. 

And the ceasless tread of feet ; 
Drop the cares of life a season, 

Though contracted it may be: 
Flee to mountain, flee to river, 

Or the margin of the sea. 



Leave behind the fret and worry 

For a brief and pleasant term. 
Push for scenes of health and beauty — 

Grasp the hand of Nature firm : 
Read her name on every flower, 

Hear her song in every stream. 
See her smile in every meadow, 

Yiew her beauty as a dream. 



122. [ Recreation. 

•5. Gaze upon her fairy motions 

As she moves upon the spray ; 
See her dance upon the sunbeams 

With the joyous aud the gay ; 
Hear her sob among the tree-tops 

With the friendless and folorn ; 
Hear her moan upon the billows 

With the poor and wretched bom, 

6. As you pass some pretty lakelet 

In its tide thy face incline ! 
As you pass some forest monarch 

Underneath his boughs recline ; 
As you pass within a valley 

Feel its f^tillncss in thy soul ! 
As you glide along a river 

Feel its calm, majestic roll. 



When the moon in varied pliases 

Rises from the hillock's shade. 
And the owlet's dismal hooting 

Issues from the distant glade, 
While the thicket's sable darkness 

Glitters Avith the firefly — 
To tlie chorus of the insects 

Echo merrily, " Good-bye," 



Time.] 123. 



TIME. 



Of Time I sing, to Time address my song. 
To chant the story of its acts, describe 
Its power, unveil its majesty. Of all 
The gifts to men most valuable : the boon 
5 Of industry ; but to the indolent 

A burden — yet the fc*eed that all must sow, 
And only reap the fruits — for reap they must. 
It matters not if yielding fair or foul. 

Its flight began amid convulsive throes 
10 Of pregnant life, when Chaos, fierce and wild, 
His dark dominion ruled ; when suns were not. 
And planets roamed unchecked and aimless on 
The gloomy heath. Then were those mighty twins, 
Whose names are Life and Time, at one profound, 
15 Momentous birth produced: — the one creates, 
The other seeks to ruin and destroy. 

Its lordly chariot stands — prepared to sweep 
The universe, and mar the works of life. 
It mounts the lofty perch, and sharply goads 
20 Its coursers on : in all its terror, down 

The eentuiies its flight maintains — no force 
Can hinder, and no force can haste. Through space, 
Through Heaven, through Hell it moves — no obstacle 
Its path obstructs, no challenger defies. 

25 Its heart is young; though countless ages pile 
Their burdens up, its shoulders scorn the load ; 
And though millenniums have passed by scores, 
By hundreds, since its advent on the road 
Of vast creation, yet its gait remains 

30 The same unfaltering march, that undermines 
The universal system of the stars. 

\i^ heart is young ; as fresh and young as when 
In giant infancy it grasped its power — 
A date unregistered, to sway until 
35 Its day of death — a doom unfixed. It moves 
In solemn grandeur on : though moons should waste, 



124. [ Time. 

And stars should hide their heads in death, it heeds 
Them not. As silent as the birth of thought. 
In hushed and breathless majesty it glides. 

40 Its countenance is dull, a stony waste. 
Unfeeling desolate, and void. Its eyes 
Are rolled away beneath their canopies, 
And in those chambers spectacles behold 
Denied to men. The marble orbs, that set 

45 Their pitless stare upon the path that lies 
Before, are obdurate and cruel ; nor turn 
Their stony gaze to view its dreary wake, 
Where all is desolation and despair, 
But fixed upon the plain of space, they scan 

50 The universe, and pierce eternity. 

The face of Nature shrinks to thus confront 
Its doom : the flowers decay, the floods and tides 
Retreat, the meadows turn to stony wastes — 
The mighty oak that mocks the hurricane 
55 Succumbs before the rolling majesty 

Of Time. The great and small alike become 
Its prey ; to feed its hunger atom and 
CoUossal gorge its lawless appetite. 

It rolls upon the blooming face of youth, 
60 And furrows deep the lovely countenance 

With heartless fury ; scathes the vio^orous form, 
Till bent and shrunken by the blast of age, 
It trembles, shrinks, and dies ; but Time observes 
It not : — it passes on, nor cnn retract : 
65 But forward move the ratchet-wheels of Time, 
And on its path it never can retreat. 
The Past, the withered Past, its warning cries, 
But Future scorns attention. Mortals build 
A temple to their vanity ; but Time 
70 With fierce, resistless sweep advances, smites 
The temple, smites the deep foundations, yea, 
The rock on which the deep foundations rest. 

Its coursers tramp with hoof a of adamant 
Upon the battlements of feudal pride, 
15 And fortresses, impregnable by men, 
Submit before the silent siege of Time. 
The palaces of regal pomp decay ^ 



Time.] 126. 

Before its all-consuming breath, and works 
Of ages, monuments, and monoliths, 

SO The sepulchers of dynasties, decline 

Their heads to mingle with the duat. The erests 
Of hills, the stately mountain peaks, that heave 
Their massive grandeur to the skies, — must pass 

85 Away — dissolve before its energy. 

It marches ruthlessly upon the page 
Of history, and it soars serenely far 
Above the wrecks of empires and of states. 
The crash of worlds ari-es from its path, 
90 As euns and planets crumble into dust 

Beneath its awful tread. Until the blast 
Of doom its course it will pursue, nor will 
It halt its fierce momentum till it smites 
Against the portals of eternity. 



126, [ FlowEi^s. 



FLOWERS. 



Are you fond of flowers, reader? 

Have you felt the joy that greets 
All the senses with a quiver 

When you s-mell the balmy sweets? 
Have you felt the solace springing 

From their sympathy and love, 
And imagined oft that flowers 

Represent the bliss above ? 

Hew I love the yellow crocus, 

How I love the daisies, shy ! 
Surely none can love the flowers 

Half as ardently as I ; 
For the tender Uttle dew-drop, 

And the violet in May, 
Have a place in my affections, 

That will last till I am gray, 



To my cheek I press the cowslip, 

And the fragrant jessamine, 
To my lips I press the pansy, 

And the tinted columbine : 
From the white and dreaming lily 

Springs a cooling air of peace, 
That subdues the heated passions, 

And from anger grants release. 



4. None are poor, or lack importance. 

In my nature-loving eyes, 
All have share of my affections. 

And are bound to me with ties 
That a life of woes can never 

Break the golden links of love. 
Nor the blade of sorrow sever 

Cords that sympathy has wove. 



Flowers.] W 

5. At the moment of misfortune, 

When we test our truest friends. 
Is the time when flowers comfort, 

Is the time the tulip lends 
Of its beauty and its fragrance 

To the weary, aching heart — 
Quickly knits the friendship cloeer 

By the sweetness of its art. 

6. When my heart is filled with sorrow; 

When my soul is sick of sin, 
And a melancholy sadness 

Has pervaded all within, 
To the flowers I am driven 

In the time of silent grief. 
And confes'^ the weary burden. 

And receive the glad relief. 



7. There are secrets that are hidden 

From the nearest, dearest friends, 
But the roses know my secrets, 

And the mignonet extends 
From its heart a sympathetic 

Bond of simple, soothing cheer : — 
Can you wonder that I cherish 

Nature's buds bo fresh and dear? 



8. When the flow of life is smoothest, 

And the heart is blithe and gay, 
Then the lily, cold and stately, 

Is the flower of the day ; 
But if bitter trials vex me, 

Then I turn to humble sweets, 
For they harmonize iu pity 

With a heart that lowly beats. 

9. Who could live without the flowers J 

Who could bear existence long 

If the sweets that droop and wither 

In the winter, bleak and strong, 



128. f Flowers. 

Should be dead at spring's re-opening — 
Should be dead when Summer flees — 

Should be dead when Autumn paints 
The crimson flush upon the trees: 

10, Would it not be heartless, think you. 

Would it not be cold indeed, 
For a soul to be indifl'erent 

In the universal need? 
Such a one is fit to consort 

With the miser in his den. 
And the world abjure his presence 

Ab an enemy of men. 



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